Dreams and False Alarms
by Parlanchina
Summary: Amelia Brown has always been a little odd, so finding THAT letter didn't come as too much of a surprise... except that Amelia is twenty eight, not eleven. Fortunately for her, a new teaching position has just opened up at Hogwarts... T, AU. COMPLETE
1. Departure Mollified

They'd driven down together, singing along to the little car's radio and watching the Mercian green slide into the Wessex countryside on an altogether more scenic route than had initially been intended. Eventually the greens turned to the greys and browns of a city and they became quieter, navigating the crowded streets of the capital. The two girls dropped the car off with an old acquaintance, all curiosity and amusement; Amelia supposed that crossing the city was a good deal easier without the considerable volume of baggage they were carrying, and it was already dusk by the time they arrived outside a series of rundown buildings.

There were fewer people bustling about now; the greengrocer's to the left of them was shutting up shop and many of the windows on the street were already covered. They had stood for a minute before Mel realised that Hermione was watching her expectantly.

"What?" she asked the girl.

"Aren't you going to ask me where we are?" Hermione asked, clearly looking forward to having more information than her cousin. She was to be severely disappointed.

"Well, that sign says 'The Leaky Cauldron' and that's where you said we were headed – don't give me that look 'Mione, you talked about it for _months_ in your first year."

Hermione, still frowning at Amelia's superior observation skills, considered her fairer cousin:

"I take it that you can see the pub, then?"

"Well duh." Amelia had had a long day's travel and wasn't entirely sure why they were still standing outside a building whose interior looked warm and smelled encouragingly of stew.

Hermione shook her head.

"You know, I don't know how we ever missed you before because it's pretty damn' obvious now. You're not even _squinting_!"

The two girls smiled at one another in a speculative sort of way before as one witch they turned to enter one of the strangest pubs in the world.

After settling in, which, this being the Leaky Cauldron, included a brief interlude where an astonished Amelia discovered that her appearance was thoroughly disapproved of by the room's somewhat petulant mirror and Hermione laughed at her cousin's attempts at fighting her hair, they made their way down into the pub for their dinner.

Most of the occupants of the wizarding hostelry had, by this point, departed for bed, so they spent their evening chatting with Tom, the innkeeper. A distinguished looking wizard who had apparently popped in for a nightcap gave Mel his newspaper as the two of them retreated upstairs; Hermione had to stifle her mirth as he gallantly bowed and kissed her cousin's hand, sweeping out of the pub with a flourish.

She was still blushing slightly as she got ready for bed, a point which Hermione periodically reminded her of from behind the Daily Prophet. Mel paused by the mirror as she caught sight of the cover story; emblazoned across the front page were the words 'Black Still at Large'. She watched the man's hollow looking eyes for a moment before saying, somewhat perplexed:

"Wasn't he on the news the other day?"

"Yes," answered Hermione from deep within the broadsheet "It says here that Fudge, he's the Minister for Magic, has informed the Muggle Prime Minister about Black's escape in the hope that he can be caught more quickly."

Her cousin studied the sunken features of the screaming man on the front page.

"Cheerful sort of bloke," she said, before crossing the room to her bed.

There was quiet for a while as Hermione finished reading the article and turned out the lamp, then:

"What in gods' names did he do to warrant such a security scare?" Mel heard her cousin turn over in the bed next to hers.

"The Prophet said he murdered thirteen people with a single curse and then walked quietly away with the Aurors, laughing."

Amelia gave a low whistle.

"Not much of a one for subtlety then."

It was some time before either witch fell asleep.

0o0o0o0

Mel awoke to the pleasant smell of bacon and the late summer butterscotch sunshine warm on her skin. Hermione was snoring gently several feet to her left. She dressed quickly, knowing that it was early, and checked her defiant hair in the mirror as she passed; luckily, the mirror appeared to be asleep.

She nodded at Tom, the barkeep, and ordered a simpler breakfast than the man perched on the barstool beside her – she'd turned to him once to ask him to pass the sugar and wasn't about to make that mistake again. She was still unable to decide which part of that particular experience had been the most unnerving: the ochre eyes staring out from behind the balaclava or the rather lively behaviour of the man's (she was fairly sure he was male) breakfast.

She was deep in relieved conversation with Tom when a large family of loud red-headed wizards blustered in. Their father immediately greeted Tom as one would an old friend and he excused himself to organise accommodation. She surveyed these newcomers with considerable interest: there were seven now, five children happily bickering across and around their mother – Mel was reminded of a mother hen with a brood of unruly chicks. She smiled into her tea as the bedlam behind her began to abate; she felt that she already knew this family.

Turning towards the stairs with the intention of waking her cousin, she stood abruptly face to face with the eldest of the brood, a rather stiff looking curly haired specimen of about her height.

"Oh I'm terribly sorry miss," he apologised, somewhat pompously. He puffed out his chest and stepped backward as she waved his apology away. She was almost immediately surrounded by two identical redheads, who had materialised on either side of her and began to mimic their brother's manner and apologised to her furiously. Torn between laughing and escaping, she was rescued by their mother who had hurried up behind them, looking stern.

"Fred, George! Leave the poor young lady alone!"

Amelia hid a grin as the two boys, both easily a head taller than their mother shrank behind her. She had the distinct impression that this scene had been played out many times before; as their mother came forward looking harassed, the two boys ambled off to good-naturedly torture their younger brother.

"I'm really am sorry, my dear," the woman was saying, looking flustered.

"Oh, it's fine, really," smiled Amelia. "They seem like quite the handful."

The woman smiled and nodded apologetically before moving off to scold two of her sons. It occurred to Amelia that she'd never been apologised to so frequently in so short a space of time.

"Hermione!"

Both Mel and the red-headed family turned towards the stairs as her bushy-haired cousin hurried over to give the youngest boy and his sister warm hugs before being enveloped in a vast hug by their mother.

"Hey Mrs Weasley," she said, emerging once more. "Guys, this is my cousin Amelia."

Amelia gave a cheery wave.

"Mel, this is Ron, Ginny, Fred, George, Percy and Mr and Mrs Weasley."

She shook hands with them all in turn, the twins once again mimicking Percy's stuffy introduction; their parents, clearly somewhere between amused and exasperated at their children's antics, insisted that she call them Molly and Arthur.

As Hermione ran to her room to collect her bag and Arthur marshalled his offspring upstairs, Amelia and Molly sat down for a brief introductory chat.

"Hermione's told me all about your family," Mel said, "You've been so kind to her and Harry."

Molly smiled, warmly, asking: "Are Hermione's parents not joining us this year? Arthur and I did so enjoy meeting them last sum- oh, are you alright?"

Once she'd finished mopping up the pumpkin juice she'd inadvertently spilled, she shook her head "Not this time, though I'm sure they would have loved to. They spoke fondly of you both."

She decided that she'd have to speak to Hermione about certain issues – some pretences were easier to maintain than others. Looking up, she realised that Molly was regarding her in a worried fashion and decided that a partial truth might do the trick; it was a pity, she thought, she hated lying to good people.

"My mother passed away last summer – Hermione's parents, my aunt and uncle, always remind me of her."

"Oh I am sorry Amelia, I didn't mean to –" Amelia waved her off.

"Not your fault Molly, just something I have to deal with."

To her great surprise, Mel was immediately enveloped in a tight hug, smelling of wool and baking.

"If you ever need to talk, I'm only an owl away – or a Muggle letter, if you'd feel more comfortable." Amelia could only nod. Her throat was dry with resurfaced emotion and she thought that if she tried to speak her voice would come out small and strangled.

After the two women had pulled themselves together, Arthur came over to collect his wife for their shopping expedition. Mel noticed that Hermione kept glancing at her with a worried expression; she smiled at her reassuringly.

"Got your booklist?" she asked.

"And yours!" replied her cousin, breaking into an identical beam.

0o0o0o0

Molly smiled at her new friend as they stood before that infamous brick wall at the back of the pub.

"Confused dear?" Mel had been examining the wall with a puzzled expression on her face.

"A little," she admitted, "but I can sort of see how it works – I assume it's a pressure potential mechanism?"

On the Weasleys' bewildered expressions, and her cousin's embarrassed smile, she continued: "I mean, you need to apply a small amount of energy, in this case magic to…" she returned her gaze to the wall "that brick there."

Hermione was fully beaming now, Amelia realised that her cousin was weirdly proud of her gifts; embarrassed, she began to blush.

"Well, yes, actually," said Arthur, a little baffled "but how did you know?"

"Erm… I take it Muggles aren't supposed to see it?"

Hermione interrupted. "Amelia's always been a little, well… _odd_. She'll be joining us at Hogwarts this year."

Arthur moved forward and opened the wall with a flick of his wand. As Diagon Alley melted into view, Mel gave a little gasp of delight "Hermione! It's even better than you said!"

She stood for a moment as the Weasleys filed past, simply taking in the sights, sounds and smells of the bustling wizarding market before her eyes fell upon a nearby poster of Sirius Black. In this image he was screaming out at the world in his tortured madness, his dark eyes filled with a burning hate. Mel shuddered a little, feeling cold despite the warm August sunshine and edged closer to Molly, who was stood with Ginny and Hermione, all looking up at his ghastly countenance.

A witch in bright purple robes bumped Molly as she hurried past; as if released from an enchantment, Molly said:

"I've sent the boys off, they're really rather useless when it comes to shopping – we'll meet them in Flourish and Blotts later. I imagine you ladies will be wanting to go to Gringotts." With that she swept off toward the imposing marble front of the wizarding bank, the three young women struggling to keep up amongst the jostling crowd.

Once Mel had exchanged sufficient currency for the coming months and discussed the possibility of postal transfers with the ornery goblin behind the counter, they headed first to the apothecary, where she attempted not to poke the contents of the many pots and jars in the shop.

They went next to Flourish and Blotts where, like Hermione, Amelia would have found it all too easy never to leave if they had been alone. She furnished herself with the books that her letter had indicated would be appropriate, along with several that she and Hermione thought would be useful or interesting. Having promised Hermione that she could borrow any of these when they weren't needed, Mel returned her attention to Molly Weasley. She had been shooting her suspicious looks since her slip with the wall, and as they walked towards Madame Malkin's she caught her new friend actively staring at her. As Hermione and Ginny were being fitted for their new school robes (and being tickled by Mme Malkin's magical tape measures) Molly decided to broach the subject.

"Forgive me my dear, but you seem a little old to be a student – Hermione has never mentioned another witch in the family."

"I told you my mother died last year," Amelia responded, ready for this line of questioning. "Well, when I was going through her stuff I came across a letter informing her that I'd been accepted to Hogwarts… she never told me about it, simply filed it away. I assume she thought it was a wind up."

"It happens. You hear about it from time to time."

Mel nodded.

"That's what Hermione said. Mum must have realised her mistake when my Aunt told her about 'Mione, but I was in university by then, I guess she figured that there was no point bringing it up.

"I showed Hermione when she got back for the summer and she suggested that I write to Professor Dumbledore and find out what could be done. He asked to meet with me and at the end of our meeting he said the best place for me would be at Hogwarts, but not as a student. He offered me the post of Professor of Muggle Studies – he said I was uniquely qualified to teach it, coming to magic so late I should have more of an understanding of many aspects of muggle culture and technology than his other candidate. I wasn't even aware that I _was_ a candidate.

"So here I am," she finished, lamely, "completely lost and very excited."

0o0o0o0

Once she too had been fitted for and ordered several sets of robes, a hat and a cloak (and privately winced at the price), they headed out to meet up with the boys at Fortescue's, where Molly and Arthur departed to continue shopping and round up their elusive family members. Amelia, Hermione and Ron decided to relax with fudge sundaes instead. Hermione had bought Amelia a quill for good luck and Mel was getting used to it – taking it for a test drive, as she put it; Ron couldn't help but snigger at that one.

Deciding that she needed to have a wander she handed Hermione an envelope, saying:

"Your mum and dad asked me to give this to you…" she couldn't quite bring herself to meet Ron's eyes "and there's a bit in there from me and Aunty B put some in too. Happy birthday for next week, love," and with that she gave her cousin a brief hug and practically ran to Ollivander's.

0o0o0o0

The wand shop was just as Hermione had described it: tower upon tower of dusty boxes in a dark and cavernous Victorian shop. After the now familiar 'why are you buying one now' conversation, Ollivander moved around his shop, pulling out boxes here and there and causing great showers of dust to fountain out from the walls. After what seemed like a dozen wands (to Ollivander's mounting enthusiasm) she went to pick up yet another proffered wand and it almost leapt from its velvet cushion into her fingers. All at once she felt a glow of power, tasting pepper in her mouth – it felt like sunshine and rain at the same time.

"That's the one!" cried Ollivander, gleefully, "holly and dragon, 12 inches – an interesting choice, very interesting. Perfect for transfiguration but also good for charms and healing work. Still, the wand chooses the wizard," he glanced at her, "well the witch in your case." He continued in a similar vein for several minutes as he packaged the wand and she handed her money to the oily little man.

Returning to the Leaky Cauldron she wondered whether he was like this every time he sold a wand. She decided to stow her shopping upstairs, waving to the mirror as she hurried back down to the bar ("Good day dear?"). Here she found Arthur Weasley engrossed in the Daily Prophet. They spent a pleasant few minutes discussing Muggle toasters before Hermione and Ron came back, along with another boy with messy black hair and large round glasses. As Arthur went over to greet the boy, Hermione hurried towards Amelia to show her what she'd bought with her birthday money.

"You've bought a carpet?" she asked, puzzled.

The mass of orange hair in her cousin's arms turned to look at her, balefully; "Oh good lord, it's a cat." Amelia reached out to it and scratched its head. The cat purred and nuzzled her hand.

"Oh Hermione, he's adorable."

Hermione grinned.

"He's called Crookshanks."

Amelia could hear Arthur telling Ron that going after mass murderers wasn't a good idea behind her and she turned, smiling.

"Oh, Harry, this is my cousin Amelia, she's the new Muggle Studies Professor." Amelia shook his hand, taking in his startlingly green eyes as she did. "Hermione's told me lots about you – I hear you're quite the Quidditch player."

As the boy smiled at her cousin, Molly Weasley entered the bar, laden with shopping and followed by the twins, Percy and Ginny who upon seeing Harry turned scarlet and muttered "Hello" without looking up.

Amelia and Hermione looked on in amusement as Percy (rather pompously) shook hands with Harry, closely followed by Fred and George in an excellent parody of their brother before turning and continuing their caricature as they greeted their scolding mother.

The two of them followed a rather sulky Percy up the stairs to pack ready for the morning; distantly she could hear George telling Harry how they'd attempted to shut Percy in a pyramid over the summer. Hermione looked mildly embarrassed.

"They're quite… exuberant," she began, apologetically, but Mel grinned, fondly recalling some of her own teenage antics.

"They're great, all of them!"

0o0o0o0

Dinner that evening was a very enjoyable affair. Tom the innkeeper put three tables together in the parlour and the whole party ate their way through five delicious courses.

"How're we getting to King's Cross tomorrow, Dad?" asked Fred, as they tucked into a sumptuous chocolate pudding.

"The Ministry's providing a couple of cars," said Arthur.

Everyone looked up at him.

"Why?" said Percy curiously.

"It's because of you, Perce," said George seriously. "And there'll be little flags on the bonnets, with HB on them –"

"- for Humungous Bighead," said Fred.

Everyone except Percy and Molly snorted into their pudding.

"Why are the Ministry providing cars, Father?" Percy asked again, in a dignified voice.

"Well, as we haven't got one any more," said Arthur, and as I work there, they're doing me a favour…"

His voice was casual, but Amelia noticed that Arthur's ears were very slowly going red, much like her own did when she was under pressure.

"Good job too," said Molly, briskly. "Do you realise how much luggage you've all got between you? A nice sight you'd be on the Muggle Underground… You are all packed, aren't you?"

"Ron hasn't put all his new things in his trunk yet," said Percy, in a long-suffering voice. "He's dumped them on my bed".

"You'd better go and pack properly, Ron, because we won't have much time in the morning," Molly called down the table. Ron scowled at Percy as Amelia and Hermione caught one another's eyes and had to look away.

After dinner everyone fell very full and sleepy. One by one they made their way upstairs to their rooms to check their things for the next day.

Amelia had sat down with Molly and Arthur as their children departed to the upper regions to pack – she suspected that Hermione and Ginny taking the opportunity to have a girly heart to heart in her room.

They'd quickly taken her into their confidence, telling her that Black may indeed have had a reason for breaking out of Azkaban. Given their topic of discussion it was, perhaps, unsurprising that the conversation dissolved into an argument.

"It just makes no sense not to tell him," Arthur said heatedly. "Harry's got a right to know. I've tried to tell Fudge, but he insists on treating Harry like a child. He's thirteen years old and –"

"Arthur, the truth would terrify him!" said Molly shrilly. "Do you really want to send Harry back to school with that hanging over him? For heaven's sake, he's _happy_ not knowing!"

"I don't want to make him miserable, I want to put him on his guard!" retorted Arthur. "You know what Harry and Ron are like, wandering off by themselves – they've ended up in the Forbidden Forest twice! But Harry mustn't do that this year! When I think what could have happened to him that night he ran away from home! If the Knight Bus hadn't picked him up, I'm prepared to bet he would have been dead before the Ministry found him!"

"But he's _not_ dead, he's fine, so what's the point –"

Despite the serious nature of the debate it was a little like watching a tennis match, Amelia mused. She was rather uncomfortable at being party to a couple's row, but also very interested in the outcome; if Harry and Ron went wandering off then Hermione was bound to be with them.

"Molly, they say Sirius Black's mad, and maybe he is, but he was clever enough to escape from Azkaban, and that's supposed to be impossible. It's been three weeks, and no one's seen hide nor hair of him, and I don't care what Fudge keeps telling the _Daily Prophet_, we're no nearer to catching Black that inventing self-spelling wands. The only thing we know for sure is what Black's after –"

"But Harry will be perfectly safe at Hogwarts."

"We thought Azkaban was perfectly safe. If Black can break _out_ of Azkaban, he can break _into_ Hogwarts."

"But no one's really sure that Black's after Harry –"

Arthur brought his fist down on the table, hard; if Mel hadn't been hanging onto her tankard at that point it would have gone flying.

"Molly, how many times do I have to tell you? They didn't report it in the press because Fudge wanted it kept quiet, but Fudge went out to Azkaban the night Black escaped. The guards told Fudge that Black's been talking in his sleep for a while now. Always the same words: 'He's at Hogwarts… he's at Hogwarts.' Black is deranged, Molly, and he wants Harry dead. If you ask me, he thinks murdering Harry will bring You-Know-Who back to power. Black lost everything the night Harry stopped You-Know-Who, and he's had twelve years alone in Azkaban to brood on that…"

There was a silence; Amelia let out the breath she didn't realise she'd been holding. What kind of world was she going to?

"Well, Arthur, you must do what you think is right. But you're forgetting Albus Dumbledore. I don't think anything could hurt Harry at Hogwarts while Dumbledore's Headmaster. I suppose he knows about all this?"

"Of course he knows. We had to ask if he minds the Azkaban guards stationing themselves around the entrances to the school grounds. He wasn't happy about it, but he agreed."

"Not happy? Why shouldn't he be happy, if they're there to catch Black?"

"Dumbledore isn't fond of the Azkaban guards," said Arthur, heavily. "Nor am I, if it comes to that… but when you're dealing with a wizard like Black, you sometimes have to join forces with those you'd rather avoid."

"If they save Harry –"

"Then I'll never say another word against them," said Arthur, wearily.

Molly turned to Amelia, "You'll be with them this year, will you keep an eye on them?"

Amelia nodded.

"Of course, Molly, but I can't help agreeing with Arthur here. If it was Hermione, I'd tell her – perhaps not everything," she continued, hurriedly, seeing that Molly was rallying for a second round. "But enough that she'd be wary. The three of them do seem to get into the most bizarre situations."

Molly visibly deflated.

"I suppose so, but there's no use frightening him."

Arthur nodded. "It's late, Molly, we'd better go up. Goodnight Amelia."

She'd just ordered herself a night cap (hot chocolate) and was about to follow her new friends when Harry came downstairs muttering something about Rat Tonic. She tried to give him an encouraging smile, but his expression told her it was probably more like a grimace.

As she turfed Ginny out of her room and settled down to sleep, she glanced at the sleeping Hermione in the bed next to hers. The world that her cousin cheerfully inhabited seemed to conceal so much danger under all its colourful fripperies.

She fell into a fitful sleep full of green light and rubble, and children screaming in the dark.


	2. An Interesting Beginning

**An Interesting Beginning**

The farewells next morning were fonder than Amelia had expected, having only met the Weasleys the day before. Giving her hand an extra squeeze as they stood on the platform, Molly reminded her of her earlier offer.

"It's really no trouble, dear, if you need to talk." Amelia wondered if the presence of so many rambunctious males got to her friend at times.

As they boarded the train she noticed Harry duck out from behind a pillar with Arthur close behind him, both looking grim. It didn't take much thought to guess what they'd been discussing; from Molly's expression she held similar suspicions.

Hermione was riding with her friends as usual, so she waded through the hordes of children and, nodding to her cousin, had quickly found herself a seat in the front carriage next to a large friendly woman who had in her charge a rickety trolley piled high with some of the most unusual sweets Amelia had ever seen. She and Elspeth, who, Amelia discovered, was the wife of the driver, spent a long and pleasant morning discussing everything from the current state of the ministry to the intricacies of village life in Hogsmeade. Mel had managed to follow most of the conversation, but her lack of experience in the wizarding world was beginning to tax her and she was mildly relieved when around lunchtime Elspeth announced that she must sell her wares to the chatting, laughing and – Mel suspected – generally misbehaving children inhabiting the compartments of the train and trundled off, the wheels of her trolley skittering madly as the tracks headed into a tunnel. She'd tried a pumpkin pastry upon her return, hoping to supplement the dreary Muggle train station sandwich she'd bought earlier but hadn't been convinced. Elspeth had settled down for what she termed a 'restorative' nap and Amelia had taken the opportunity to enjoy the countryside outside her window in solitude.

She'd always enjoyed travelling, walking, riding, singing along to the radio in a car, sitting with a book in the rumbling carriage of a train – it made no difference. It was as if time operated on different rules – time could stand still for those precious hours while she hurtled towards a new town, a new home, a new world. Her time to be herself: a little oasis of peace before the hustle and bustle of life took over. It was one of the reasons for her rather eclectic collection of previous jobs, stretching from archaeologist to ranger to roadie; teaching, she reflected, would probably be the most static post she'd ever held.

She was still staring out at the now rain-soaked world when she noticed that the train was slowing; excitedly, thinking that they must have reached their destination, she stood and pressed her hand to the glass.

Strange, she thought, that the rain should turn what had been such a muggy day so cold; her head snapped back as she reached for her jacket: something was moving outside the carriage, something dark. Behind her Elspeth awoke with a start as the train ground to a halt, spilling her pastries and cakes across the floor, her breathing loud in the unaccustomed quiet, they heard the sound of compartment doors opening as students tried to see why the train had stopped. Then, as if the darkness outside had reached inside the train, all the lights in the carriage went out; Elspeth gave a loud gasp and a point of light appeared next to Amelia – the older witch had got out her wand. Hurriedly, Amelia followed suit; even as she did ice covered the glass that her breath was now clouding over.

With a soft click, the driver's door opened and a middle aged wizard backed towards his wife, whimpering; Elspeth gave a strangled sob, her eyes and those of her husband affixed on the door to the carriage. There, in the half-light, was a shrouded figure, tall and thin and moving towards them. For a moment, Amelia felt sure that the creature, with its icy countenance and rasping breath was going to kill them, but it stopped before them, as if searching for something before moving off down the train. As it passed her Amelia had the sudden impression of bodies in rubble; running in the dark; the taste of plaster dust and smoke in her mouth; Hermione's anguished cries behind her. As the creature left them behind she was aware of sobbing – she turned to find Elspeth sat on the floor of the carriage amongst her ruined confectionary; her husband was knelt beside her, though he too was white as a sheet. Shaking, she lifted her hand to her face to wipe away the tears that she hadn't realised she'd shed.

The lights began to come back on, weakly at first, suggesting that the creatures had finished their unpleasant business within the train; the feeling of dread left her more slowly. She helped the driver, a short, hairy wizard named Horace, clear up the carriage and checked that Elspeth would be alright as the train shuddered back to life, glancing up at the door as she did so.

"Go on dear, I'll be fine", the older witch said, motioning Amelia along the train.

Slowly, due to the confusion of frightened children in the corridor, Amelia moved along the train, wand still out.

"What's going on Miss?"

"What was it Miss?"

"Is it coming back?"

Not used to authority, Amelia faltered at first before remembering that she was responsible for these children.

"Back into the compartments, please. Everything's OK now. We're nearly at Hogwarts – robes on everyone. No, it's not coming back," she answered as she made her way along the train. _At least I bloody hope it's not_, she thought, fervently.

She hadn't really expected it to work, but the Voice and the robes appeared to do the trick, imbuing her with the expectation of command.

In the last carriage she found the compartment that she'd been searching for, its occupants looking badly shaken. Inside were five kids, and one adult; she assessed them rapidly as twelve eyes turned to take her in. Harry looked up at her, a little dazed – he didn't look well; next to him Ron was clutching Scabbers, his familiar, in his top pocket. Ginny was holding her brother's arm tightly, eyes wide with fear; she was next to a boy with dark, floppy hair, already in his robes, who was staring at the goal of Amelia's search, who chose this moment to fling herself at Mel. She caught her cousin in a tight hug.

Breaking the embrace but holding onto the girl's arms Mel stared at her:

"Jesus, Hermione, are you ok?"

Hermione nodded, then glanced around in mild embarrassment.

Sensing this, the only adult in the compartment, a scruffy looking brown haired wizard in his mid thirties took his leave to speak to the driver; he handed Harry a large piece of chocolate. Harry was, Amelia noted, worryingly pale. He paused by the door and looked at her questioningly; she was quite pretty, he noted.

"My cousin," she said, by way of explanation.

"Oh, of course," he replied, allowing her to pass him before disappearing further along the train.

Blushing slightly, Hermione sat back down and said

"Er, Neville, this is my cousin Amelia", this was met by one intrigued glance and several weak smiles, "Mel, this is Neville Longbottom, he's in our year."

"Hi" nodded Mel as he peered at her; sitting down, she glanced at Harry and said "You look a bit peaky, I take it those floaty bas- things came down this way too", dismissing Hermione's shock at her near bad language with a look and putting a comforting arm around Ginny, who was gently vibrating with fear. "You all ok?"

Harry, who looked to be the least OK of everyone, nodded.

"Are you sure you're OK, Harry?" said Hermione, watching him anxiously.

"I don't get it… what happened?" said Harry, wiping the sweat off his face.

"Well – that thing – the Dementor – stood there and looked around (I mean, I think it did, I couldn't see its face) – and you – you –"

"I thought you were having a fit or something," said Ron, who still looked scared. "You went sort of rigid and fell out of your seat and started twitching –"

"And Professor Lupin stepped over you, and walked towards the Dementor, and pulled out his wand," said Hermione. "And he said, 'None of us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks. Go.' But the Dementor didn't move, so Lupin muttered something, and a silvery thing shot out of his wand at it, and it turned around and sort of glided away…"

"It was horrible," said Neville in a strangely high voice. "Did you feel how cold it went when it came in?"

"I felt weird," said Ron, shifting his shoulders uncomfortably. "Like I'd never be cheerful again…"

Ginny, who was huddled between Ron and Amelia looking nearly as bad as Harry did, gave a small sob. Amelia gave her shoulders another squeeze.

"But didn't any of you – fall off your seats?" said Harry, awkwardly.

"No," said Ron, looking anxiously at Harry again. "Ginny was shaking like mad, though…"

Amelia felt for the boy.

"Elspeth, the trolley witch, had a bit of a funny turn up front," she said. "And to be honest, I didn't feel all that fabulous."

"Er," said Neville, looking curiously from Hermione to Amelia, "How come you're –"

"On a train full of witches?" Amelia finished, smiling. "I'm joining the teaching staff this year – Muggle Studies".

He frowned slightly. "But I thought Hermione said that she was the only witch in the family."

Mel and Hermione's eyes met briefly "It's a long story."

They looked up as the compartment door slid open: Professor Lupin had come back. He paused as he entered, looked around and said, with a small smile, I haven't poisoned that chocolate, you know…"

Harry took a bite and some of his colour returned; Amelia was mildly impressed.

"We'll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes," said Professor Lupin. "Are you all right, Harry?"

"I'm fine," he muttered, clearly embarrassed

0o0o0o0

They didn't talk much during the remainder of the journey, Amelia choosing to stay with her cousin and Ginny. At long last the train stopped at Hogsmeade station, and there was a great scramble to get out; owls hooted, cats miaowed, and Neville's pet toad croaked loudly from under his hat, earning a surprised look from Amelia. The boy hurried away, blushing. It was freezing on the tiny platform; rain was driving down in icy sheets.

Amelia and the dilapidated professor hung back to avoid the crush. Shifting his suitcase, he offered his hand, saying "Professor Remus Lupin."

"Amelia Brown," she replied, as they shook. "I suppose I'm a Professor too, now."

His smile broadened.

"New?" he asked, and she nodded. "Me too. Defence Against the Dark Arts, you?"

"Muggle Studies," she replied, smiling back.

"Shall we?"

The crush outside the train appeared to be thinning. Hoisting her bag onto her shoulders, Amelia followed the Professor out of the train, where their luggage was removed for transport. Her new colleague nodded courteously at the greasy-haired man overseeing the chaos.

"Coaches again, Argus?"

The man scowled and waved them onto a muddy track where several hundred coaches were waiting to take the students up to the castle. The coaches were being pulled by some of the strangest creatures Amelia had ever seen; a kind of cross between a horse, a dragon and a corpse. The nearest one whinnied at her in greeting.

"Miss Brown?" Starting, Mel realised she'd been staring at the beasts and that Lupin was holding the door of the nearest coach open for her. Mentally shaking herself she apologised to her new colleague and allowed him to pull her up into the coach, which set off with a lurch. Noticing his curious look, Amelia enquired:

"What were those things?"

"Pulling the coaches?"

"Yeah. They're a little creepy."

Lupin nodded.

"Not everyone can see them, only those who've witnessed death. They're called Thestrals."

"Oh," she said, and thought for a moment. "But you can see them too?"

Lupin nodded and smiled a little sadly. Amelia looked away then, feeling she'd crossed some sort of line. They sat in silence for a few minutes, but Mel could feel his eyes on her. He was taking in her freshly tailored robes, smart(ish) appearance, authoritative air and incongruously messy blonde hair; he noticed the flash of a green scarf under her robes. It appeared to have skulls on it.

She was quite pretty, he mused, if a little odd.

Amelia glanced back at him as he turned to look out of the window. He was wearing an extremely shabby set of wizards' robes, which had been darned in several places. He looked ill and exhausted. Though he seemed quite young, his light-brown hair was already flecked with silver. He was quite handsome, she decided, in a bookish kind of way. _Besides, _she thought,_ I've turned up for work like that for much of the past decade_.

He looked back at her then, and she saw that none of the outward appearance of tiredness had reached his blue-grey eyes. She smiled, embarrassed and looked once more out of the window. She'd been about to turn back again when the turrets of a great castle slipped into view from behind the trees, tiny golden lights shining into the darkness. She gasped.

"It's beautiful!" Lupin looked out at the castle and then back at his new colleague.

"You didn't study here?" he asked, perplexed.

"Er, no," said Amelia, tearing her eyes from the castle to look at Lupin. "I – it's a long story," she said, and filled him in on her mother's no-nonsense approach. She took off her dark purple gloves as she spoke and stowed them in her pocket, revealing nails painted an unlikely shade of blue.

He smiled at her. "You're one interesting witch, Professor Brown."

"Thank you Professor Lupin, but as we're going to be working together, perhaps you could call me Amelia."

He inclined his head.

"In which case Amelia, I would be delighted if you would call me Remus."

Amelia grinned at him as their carriage rolled to a halt. Remus got out of the coach before her and offered his hand for support as she climbed down. As their hands touched, Mel's mind flashed in that perplexing way it sometimes did on contact. She could see the full moon through the trees, as though she was moving at speed; could feel heat and sweat and pain; could taste the hot iron tang of blood in her mouth. As soon as she's felt it the sensation was gone and she was stood, staring at a bewildered Remus.

Mel realised that she was still holding his hand and snatched it back from him as if burnt. He was about to ask if she was alright when they heard raised voices from the carriage in front of them. She stared at him as he dismissed a spiteful looking blond teenager, who had been abusing Hermione and her friends, along. There was no doubt about it. She could see it in the way he moved, like a shadow clinging to him. Even his half-smile was a little wolfish as he turned back to Amelia.

She forced a smile and joined him in the crowd pressing towards the castle doors. As he led her up the steps she reflected that his condition could be perfectly ordinary in this world and decided not to hold it against such an apparently kind man. At the top of the stairs he turned to look at her, a little worriedly, but his new friend was smiling broadly once more. Encouraged, he smiled back.

"This is the Great Hall – we'll be eating up at the top table I imagine. The ceiling's enchanted of course…"

Amelia glanced up at the ceiling which was, sure enough, a perfect reflection of the storms outside. The Great Hall was magnificent, she thought. Forgetting herself for a moment, she mused: "How on Earth do the candles stay up?"

Remus looked at her in obvious amusement.

"Did no one tell you? We can do magic here."

She glared a little at his playful smile, but the corners of her mouth twitched upwards all the same.

0o0

A familiar elderly yet surprisingly spry wizard approached the two of them as they made their way up the hall.

"Ah Remus, it's good to see you again. You're up by Severus and Filius. Amelia, if you'll follow me, I'll introduce you to Pomona. I trust you had a pleasant journey – yes I heard about the Dementors."

"It was certainly eventful, Sir," she replied, a little shyly, smiling at the twinkle in the Headmaster's blue eyes.

"Please, call me Albus. This is Pomona Sprout – Herbology," he said, indicating a cheerfully rotund witch of about fifty, who offered her hand to Amelia. "Pomona, this is Amelia Brown, our new Muggle Studies Professor. You'll be between Pomona and Minerva – she'll be along in a moment." With that he swept to the middle of the table, a vision in deep purple. Pomona looked her new acquaintance up and down and apparently approved of what she saw, slapping Mel on the back and laughing heartily as she indicated the chair to her left.

"Try not to look so worried, lass," she said as Amelia unbuckled her travelling cloak and sat down.

"First day of school," Amelia said. "Always did this to me."

Pomona smiled, warmly, and offered her a glass of damson wine, which she gratefully accepted.

"Just stand up when Albus says your name and give a little bow. You can worry about everything else tomorrow."

Amelia reflected that this was probably the best approach as Dumbledore stood up and called for silence.

"I would like to introduce: the Sorting Hat!"

A three-legged stool was sat in front of the high table, on top of which was perched an old and battered wizard's hat. Amelia leaned forwards eagerly; Hermione's description of the sorting had been intriguing. The staff watched as the first years were led into the Great Hall, sorted into the four noble houses and took their seats with evident relief. As a tiny wizard with a shock of dark hair carried the hat and stool out of the hall, Amelia saw Harry and Hermione take their seats, the latter giving her cousin a reassuring smile. She looked up as an austere looking witch took her seat beside Amelia, smiling slightly at her new colleague.

Dumbledore stood once more to address the hall; Amelia smiled as the first years stared at his curious appearance. He had several feet of long silver hair and beard, half-moon spectacles and an extremely crooked nose. He had, she'd noticed, an extraordinary capacity for putting people at their ease.

"Welcome!" said Dumbledore, the candlelight shimmering on his beard. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast…"

Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued. "As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the Dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business."

He paused, and Amelia remembered what Arthur had said about Dumbledore not being happy with the Dementors guarding the school.

"They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds," Dumbledore continued, "and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises – or even Invisibility Cloaks," he added, blandly. Out of the corner of her eye, Amelia saw Harry and Ron exchange a glance. "It is not in the nature of a Dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the Prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs foul of the Dementors.

Percy Weasley, sat in the middle of the Gryffindor table, puffed out his chest and stared around impressively; Amelia rolled her eyes, then fervently hoped that no one had noticed. Dumbledore paused again; he looked very seriously around the Great Hall, and nobody moved or made a sound.

"On a happier note," he continued. "I am pleased to welcome three new teachers to our ranks this year.

"Firstly, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."

There was some scattered, rather unenthusiastic, applause. Only those who had been in the compartment on the train with him clapped hard, Amelia among them. Lupin looked particularly shabby next to all the other teachers in their best robes.

"Secondly, Professor Brown, who has agreed to join us as Muggle Studies teacher."

To her surprise, Amelia received a somewhat warmer reception than Lupin – particularly from the Weasley family – but mostly from the male half of the room, much to her amusement. Several of the older girls glared at her.

"As to our third new appointment," Dumbledore continued. "Well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other that Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching role in addition to his game-keeping duties."

The applause for Hagrid was tumultuous. Amelia glanced along the table to see an enormous, enormously hairy man turn bright red and grin into his beard. She grinned, from what Hermione had told her, he'd be perfect for the job.

"Well, I think that's everything of importance," said Dumbledore. "Let the feast begin!"

The golden plates and goblets before them filled suddenly with food and drink, all of it delicious. The hall soon echoed with talk, laughter and the clatter of knives and forks. As she ate, Amelia chatted with Minerva and Pomona and soon found herself relaxing into her position at the top table. This might not be too bad after all.

As the plates were cleared away – magically again, Amelia noticed – Hermione and her friends picked their way over to Hagrid in order to congratulate him. Hermione called over to her cousin while the three of them were shooed away by Minerva.

"I'll see you tomorrow – good luck!" she gave Mel a big grin.

On Pomona's questioning look she explained, "Hermione's my cousin – I'm keeping an eye on her."


	3. Sorted!

**Chapter 3 – Sorted**

As Amelia followed the rest of the staff up to Dumbledore's office (the password, she discovered, was 'peanut brittle') she found herself walking beside a sour-faced wizard with long, black hair. His robes were smart and he gave the impression of dour authority. He was staring with unmasked contempt at Remus, who was talking animatedly with the tiny wizard just ahead of them. He must have felt the fiery gaze upon him, for he glanced back at the next corner and raised an eyebrow at Amelia and her silent companion. The other man glowered at him and dropped back a few paces.

"He's friendly," Amelia remarked to Pomona, who had appeared beside her.

"Oh, don't mind Severus," she said. "He's just a bit of an old sour-pus. He can be quite the gentleman at times," she added, waggling her eyebrows in a disturbing manner.

Amelia gave her a wry grin. "Oh I'm sure he's a regular Mr Darcy."

Pomona and the smaller, white haired witch beside her giggled far too girlishly for two grown women. Remus and the tiny wizard looked back in puzzlement and Amelia felt herself blush, wondering quietly just how much wine her two companions had had to drink.

0o0o0o0

As the others milled around the Headmaster's office Amelia attempted to hang back, but Pomona seemed intent upon introducing her to them all. The tiny, white haired gentleman was introduced as Filius Flitwick, Charms Master ("Charmed, I'm sure," hiccupped Pomona), and leader of the school choir. Amelia had truly enjoyed their performance at the feast and made sure to tell him so, making the little man swell with pride.

Next was the giggling, curly-haired matron who presided over the Hospital Wing, Poppy Pomfrey. Beside her was the wispiest woman Amelia had seen outside of a folk festival, draped head to toe in chintzy fabrics and glittering amulets. The woman's glasses must have been half an inch thick, and Amelia wondered vaguely whether the woman could actually _see_, as she introduced herself as "Professor Trelawney, Divinashion," slurring a little and breathing cooking sherry all over her new colleague.

The greasy man from the platform was next, "Argus Filch, Caretaker." The man attempted what he clearly thought was a winning smile; the equally greasy cat in his arms hissed at her. Next was the half-giant of whom Hermione had spoken so highly; "Rubeus Hagrid, Groundskeeper," he said pleasantly.

"And Professor of Care of Magical Creatures, Hagrid, don't forget that," squeaked Filius – he seemed quite proud of his friend.

"Oh, yes!" said Hagrid, beaming.

"I've heard a lot about you – good things – from my cousin, Hermione," she said, and Hagrid grinned.

"You're related to _Granger_?" distaste dripped from every syllable.

Amelia turned to face the sallow-faced man in the shadows.

"Yes, I am," she said, calmly. "I'm very proud of her."

He raised an eyebrow. "I can't think why."

"Now, now, Severus, there's no call to be rude," said Remus, stepping forward and raising his own eyebrow. Despite her anger at Snape's spite, she had a hard time keeping a straight face as the war of eyebrows played out in front of her. The tension could have been sliced up and sold off.

"Remus is quite right," said Minerva, sharply. Deftly, she took over the introductions from Pomona, who had wandered off to refill her goblet. "Severus here teaches Potions and I believe you've already met Remus?" On her nod, Minerva continued.

"I take Transfiguration, Professor Vector here is our resident Arithmancy expert," she indicated a man whose every attitude appeared sharp. _Aptly named_, thought Amelia.

"Professor Martin Dockrill, Ancient Runes," this was a larger man whose bearded face was oddly familiar.

"Any relation to Steve Dockrill?" she enquired, shaking his hand.

"Why yes, my younger brother is named Steve," he answered, puzzled.

"I did my undergraduate qualification at Bradford with his team."

"A fellow archaeologist! I can see we'll have much to discuss!" he cried, giving her a warm smile and immediately reminding her of hazy evenings in a selection Shetland's finest watering holes.

"Letitia Pince, the Librarian," a pinched woman nodded kindly at her, "and this is Professor Binns," said Minerva indicating a somewhat transparent gentleman hovering a few inches above his stool. Having been warned to expect ghosts, Amelia simply smiled at him before he returned to his conversation with Professor Sprout.

"You'll fit in nicely," smiled Minerva, encouragingly.

"Thank you," Amelia replied, earnestly.

Professor Dumbledore chose that moment to return from his duties.

"Well now everyone," he began, assuming that easy respect that came naturally to him. "The students are a-bed – or at least pretending to be," he twinkled, "and we are about to embark upon a new year of learning and excitement. I would once more like to welcome Rubeus, Remus and Amelia to the team." This was accompanied by warm smiles from almost everyone (Severus was still openly glaring at Remus, but Argus was at least _trying_).

"Which leads me to the first order of business – Filius?"

Professor Flitwick briefly disappeared from view and returned with the Sorting Hat. Amelia's insides moved uneasily; she had a feeling that she knew where this was headed.

"Now, you're all aware of Amelia's situation," _here we go_, she thought, "and I thought it best that you be sorted, my dear," he said turning to his young colleague. "It might help you feel more at home here."

Amelia nodded, desperately trying not to let the blush she could feel beginning reach her cheeks, suddenly feeling like a naughty thirteen-year-old in the staff room.

Deftly, Dumbledore picked up the battered hat and dropped it onto Amelia's head; it was, strangely enough, a perfect fit. In an effort not to meet anyone's gaze she shut her eyes.

"Hmm…" said a small voice in her ear. "You're an interesting one: late entrant, intelligent, creative, brave – stubborn too." Amelia had to concede that point, it was one of her favourite traits. "You would do well in Hufflepuff, you're certainly loyal, and excellently in Slytherin – you've no lack of cunning, my dear." Amelia raised an eyebrow. "Not one for the green then? Ravenclaw would suit your intellect…" the voice in her head was silent for a moment, and Amelia could hear her own heartbeat drumming in her ears; "but perhaps your other talents would serve another house better. I think red and gold would do, has to be GRYFFINDOR!"

There were a few nods of approval – and more than a few of disappointment – as the hat was put away. Amelia smiled at Minerva, who was telling her that she had just joined her house. She mused quietly that she wouldn't have minded any of them… with the possible exception of Slytherin.

"Next, I should like to remind you all of the security measures put in place this year…"

The meeting continued in a similar vein for a few minutes, before Dumbledore broke off to speak to individual staff members, and Amelia was recaptured by Professor Dockrill.

"Have you heard from Steve recently? Call me Martin, by the way. How is that lovely Julie of his?"

After an enjoyable but exhausting few minutes Minerva intervened and escorted her to her office and her private rooms. Amelia was very pleased to discover that she had a bedroom, sitting room, bathroom and – best of all – balcony to roam around, along with quite a spacious office. The offices were, Minerva told her, always kept separate, largely to allow the staff to have some time off when students couldn't find them; hers was three floors below, accessible by climbing behind a bookcase in her sitting room and full of empty bookcases. This was something that Amelia planned to remedy.

Minerva stood back and enjoyed the younger witch's excitement before handing her two rolls of parchment.

"This is your timetable, and this," she indicated the second roll, "is a list of spells that Albus and I thought might be useful. These first two ought to help you settle in and get organised; many of the rest are general cleaning spells. Give the top one a try," her voice had assumed the tone of 'teacher' and Amelia did as she was told. "Try to visualise the rooms as you'd want them to be, they should reorganise themselves accordingly once the spell is complete…"

Amelia shut her eyes and thought hard; she was delighted, upon opening them to discover an airier and somehow cosier room. Her last few possessions were whizzing into their places and large cushions had accumulated in the corners.

She realised that Minerva was giving her a rather penetrating look and she smiled, a little uncertainly. The older witch appeared to shake herself.

"Excellent… I can see that you'll be… just fine. Try out some of the other spells when you get a chance, and if you get stuck any of the staff will be happy to lend a hand," her gaze lingered on Amelia for a moment before she continued. "I'll bid you a good night…"

Amelia smiled back at the other witch, saying: "I'll see you at breakfast!"

It was a while later, when she had located her pyjamas and settled down to her first night's sleep at Hogwarts that she realised she hadn't actually _said_ the incantation.

0o0o0o0

Several floors below, Remus rolled over in his bed, trying vainly to tell himself that the young woman he'd just met wasn't nearly as fascinating as he'd found her to be. His treacherous mind however, wasn't having any of it. After a few minutes he rubbed his face in defeat.

_Well so what if she was fascinating? _He thought, _Or quite pretty? People like you don't get fascinating or pretty._ His inner critic paused, before continuing…_ Or plain, or boring either, come to think of it._

He turned over again in an effort to get away from himself and stared at the ceiling; there was a spider on it, staring back.

His life was no place for companionship, time had proved that, and he could never inflict his burdens onto another's shoulders, but…

_But perhaps_, he thought, in defiance. _Perhaps it would be OK to dream…_

0o0o0o0

***Note:** Steve Dockrill and Julie Bond are two awesome Norse specialists at the university which I trained, no disrespect intended


	4. Reflections and Shadows

"Hurry up there, you'll miss breakfast!" Professor McGonagall's crisp Scottish accent rang out in the corridors, speeding up a gaggle of dawdling first years. "Ah, Amelia. Sleep well?"

Amelia had indeed slept well, a hitherto unaccustomed feat in a new home; she had risen early and spent a good hour establishing routes to and from the classrooms marked on her timetable and her allotted rooms, along with several other key locations within the castle. She had just emerged from a portrait of an irritable looking witch who appeared to have lost her cat.

"Indeed. That's one hell of a secret passage – I was outside Herbology."

Minerva couldn't help but smile. She had taken a liking to the newest addition to the faculty, for all her unusual talents.

"Was Pomona there?" Amelia barely had time to register the flash of amusement on her friend's face before it was concealed behind a tight-lipped smile.

"Potions is _that_ way, Bottomley – in the Dungeons, not the Astronomy Tower."

A terrified second-year scurried back in the direction from which he'd come.

"She was, as a matter of fact," replied Amelia, expression carefully blank. "She looked a little… delicate".

Minerva made a noise that could have been a snort of laughter but which would have been interpreted by any of the passing students as a perfunctory cough.

"She doesn't drink particularly often, but when she does…" she waved her hand in a dismissive manner. "Shall we join the masses for breakfast?"

As they made their way across the Great Hall Amelia spied her cousin bickering with her two best friends and gave her a quick wink.

"You're close to your cousin, aren't you?" asked Minerva over a bowl of muesli. "Pass the fruit? Oh, thank you Filius."

Amelia nodded, "We always were, both bookish and quiet," _…and lonely_, she added privately. She buttered some toast.

"And now?"

"She's all I have left," Amelia said, watching as the Weasley twins did their best to entertain her cousin.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to –"

It was Amelia's turn to wave away a comment. "It's fine, really."

Embarrassed, Minerva turned to Filius and Amelia was left to her toast. A few minutes passed in contemplative crunchiness before a new voice jolted her out of her thoughts.

"Pass the eggs?" It was her friend from the train.

"Sorry, I was miles off," she said, passing the plate across.

"I could see." There was that sparkle of joviality again, behind his weariness. They spent a few minutes in companionable silence before Remus was presented his timetable by Professor Vector.

"Hmm. Double fifth years, I suspect they'll be less than co-operative," he said, examining the parchment. Amelia chuckled.

"What?"

"You've got the Weasley twins," she indicated along the Gryffindor table to where Fred and George were once again impersonating Percy, making little Ginny turn crimson and attempt to disappear behind her timetable.

"Ah," he said, following her line of sight.

"I've got third years. I suppose the fourth floor is fairly easy to get to?" She'd found it once during her exploration that morning, but half of the stairs had vanished as she'd tried to get back down and she'd been forced to leap from one staircase to the next as it swung past at a leisurely pace.

"Relatively," replied Remus. He wondered vaguely whether the staircase in that part of the castle still tried to corral unsuspecting passengers. "My first class is up there too, I'll walk with you if you want."

"That'd be great – if you don't mind!"

"Not a problem," he smiled.

They finished their breakfast and set off together, passing an exceptionally delicate Madame Pomfrey as they left the Great Hall.

"I never took Muggle Studies, what are you teaching the third years?" he asked as the started up the stairs.

"Attitudes to science and magic, this term. Although I suspect I'll prefer first and fifth years."

"Why?"

"Cultural awareness – experiencing the world through cinema and music."

Remus paused on the third floor staircase to allow the Fat Friar's ghost to glide past.

"Won't you have some difficulty with electricity and magic? They tend not to interact happily…"

"I'd heard," she replied, smiling. Dumbledore had told her, during her interview, that he'd once tried to make a toaster run on magic, with some spectacular results.

"They tend to explode…" continued Remus, apparently concerned for his new friend's limbs; he was looking at her worriedly.

"I'm using clockwork," she said, only just managing to avoid rolling her eyes at him. "Don't worry, Dumbledore said that there wouldn't be a problem. I'm a big girl; I can take care of myself."

They came to a halt outside an empty classroom. He looked at her a little oddly.

"I've no doubt," he said. "Well, this is you…"

"Thanks again."

"Not at all."

Amelia went into the room and got out the course materials; by the time she'd turned back around the werewolf had gone.

0o0o0o0

She spent an enjoyable morning discussing various philosophies of science and magic with Hermione and her classmates, before setting them two rolls of parchment on the evolution of the modern Wicca religion. Once the moans about the amount of homework had died away down the corridor, she took the opportunity to catch up with her cousin.

"Good first lesson Mel!" she said, causing Amelia to beam.

"I hoped so, but it's nice to know. It's a bit weird being this side of the desk… I'm glad it was with you."

Hermione beamed back. "Everyone seemed to really get into it, particularly Ernie Macmillan – he's usually quite quiet."

Amelia nodded, "I'll keep my eye on him. What've you got next?"

"Divination – do you know about my… arrangements?" she asked, quietly.

"Dumbledore informed the staff last night."

"Oh, thank God… I don't think I'd have been able not to tell you," she grinned. "Best be off then." So saying, she removed a golden chain from about her neck, span the delicate pendant and grinning, disappeared from sight.

Amelia shook her head; she'd never get used to this place.

0o0o0o0

After getting the first years off to an appreciable start on the finer points of fantasy writing, Amelia went to secure some lunch in the Great Hall. She was delighted to discover that school dinners were much better in the wizarding world than they had been at her secondary school and was helping herself to a hearty chicken salad when she felt a familiar but unpleasant sensation twitch its way into her subconscious. She glanced up at the Gryffindor table just in time to see Hermione storming away from a puzzled looking Ron and Harry.

"I shouldn't worry too much," said Minerva, who was once again seated beside her. "Sybill told them that Harry was going to die this morning."

Amelia's head snapped around in shock.

"Oh, she predicts the same thing every year, possibly in the hope that she'll be right at least once. Your cousin appears to have decided that it is complete bunkum," Minerva looked faintly proud of her student. She continued more darkly, "Although I think Mr Weasley is less convinced."

0o0o0o0

She spent much of the first half of the next lesson attempting to prevent Fred and George from 'accidentally' setting anything on fire, but once she'd got the rather creaky clockwork wireless in the corner to work they had calmed down considerably. By the time she had covered their long-term project – researching Muggle life through popular music – they were sat with their classmates at their desks, attentively scribbling down assignment parameters, trying to get ahead on their homework.

Consulting her timetable, however, she was more than relieved to discover that she had the rest of the afternoon off. She looked out at the sky: sunshine had broken through the clouds now, and was bathing the grounds in a welcoming light. Amelia decided that she'd earned a damn' good explore, exchanging her good shoes for more robust specimens and leaving her smart robes behind.

There was a light breeze accompanying the sunshine and as she wandered the shore of the Lake, watching the tentacles of the Giant Squid ripple under the surface, she thought that this place could indeed become a very beautiful home. She rather lost track of time as she bimbled, and so it wasn't until dinner that she heard of the rather dramatic events playing out elsewhere in the grounds that afternoon.

0o0o0o0

In the dash between lectures that afternoon, Remus waited by a window that faced out onto the Lake while a rowdy bunch of sixth years ambled passed. He glimpsed a lonely looking figure striding off around the shore and, as the wind brushed her hair back from her pink cheeks, he caught his breath.

_Curiouser and curiouser…_ he thought, as she rounded a curve and headed into the trees of the Forbidden Forest. Vaguely, he wondered whether anyone had given her the usual dire warnings about the woods… and then whether, if they had, she'd pay any attention. _Probably not,_ he decided as he continued to his classroom. He was intercepted at the door by a grave and out of breath Filius Flitwick, who told him that there had been some kind of accident in Hagrid's class and that there would be a staff meeting after dinner.

"Who was hurt?" he asked, concerned. "Are they –"

"Draco Malfoy," the smaller man replied. "He'll live, though he's milking it for all he's worth."

Remus nodded before continuing into his already full class: "So, what do we know about vampires?"

0o0o0o0

The meeting was a sombre one, Remus having filled Amelia in during the meal.

Dumbledore assured everyone that Malfoy would be fine, and Severus that 'the beast' was secure.

Hagrid was in an awful state; he kept muttering to himself: "I tole him not ter insult him, I tole him…"

The school governors were informed of the incident during the meeting, apparently by the portraits of previous headmasters that lined the walls.

Snape left first, with something of a sneer, closely followed by Madame Pomfrey, who needed to tend to Malfoy and was kindly leading Hagrid to her office for a restorative.

As she made her way back to her quarters Amelia reflected on the uncanny ability of teenagers to get themselves in trouble by knowing better than everybody else. Lost in her reverie, she continued along the corridor until the abrupt appearance of the Bloody Baron eventually startled her out of her thoughts. She realised that not only had she been walking for some time, but also that she had no idea where she was; this part of the castle was entirely unfamiliar to her.

She doubled back on herself until she came to a junction where several passageways joined together. Thinking back to earlier in the evening she was somewhat alarmed to discover that she had no recollection of her journey; she was quite lost. Reluctantly, she turned back to discover where her feet had been taking her.

At the end of the corridor was a door leading to an ascending staircase; deciding that an upper window might provide a better clue to her location than her current position, she started up it.

The stairs came out into an extraordinary room: above her, Amelia could see an exquisite and curved model of the solar system, the bronze planets gracefully orbiting their tiny, gold sun. The model continued into an upper room, one or other of the planets disappearing into the upper room with a soft whoosh before arcing gently down again on the other side of the room. The shelves on the lower level were piled high with books and curious metal objects; her eyes rested briefly upon a brass telescope.

_Ah,_ she thought, _the Astronomy Tower_.

She went, then, into a second room, more full of equipment than the first, and took the spiral staircase to the upper level, the metal cool under her hand.

Amelia was instantly glad that her feet had taken it upon themselves to show her this place. The pale light of the waning moon cast an ethereal glow across the brass and gold apparatus in the room. Amelia crossed to the rail set into the wall and looked out across the lake, her eyes following the shape of the woodland up to the mountains; they didn't seem too far off from up here, perhaps when it was warmer she and Hermione could investigate them.

So enchanting was the view, and so peaceful the night, that Amelia was still stood there a good twenty minutes later, when a bemused Remus Lupin came upon her, having sought peace following the meeting and remembered the excellence of the view from the Tower in his youth.

Doing his best not to startle his new friend, but not quite succeeding, he cleared his throat. Amelia nearly jumped out of her skin. The subsequent few minutes were therefore filled with repeated apologies and laughter before the two of them settled against the rail once more to drink in the view, and they lapsed into a comfortable silence.

The moonlight glittered off the lake below and Amelia thought sadly that if her mother were alive she'd have loved this view. Remus too was recalling those he'd once called family, romping about the castle by night, enjoying midnight feasts courtesy of the house elves, frolicking about the grounds, never quite staying out of trouble. He sighed as he thought of that last autumn and the threat that had hung over them all. Amelia had been watching a flock of bats circling the trees below and flowing past their lofty perch, so she missed his premise.

"Hmm? Sorry…" she apologised, looking sheepish.

"I said it's hard to believe a place this beautiful could be so dangerous."

"You mean Malfoy? Yes, I suppose that even if he hadn't provoked that Hippogriff it wasn't a great way to start the year… he's a nasty piece of work though, from what I've seen."

Remus nodded: "Even if he had paid attention, the Wizarding World is a place fraught with painful accidents."

"Now you tell me!" Amelia laughed, and he smiled back at her.

"Take Quidditch, for example – I've never known so many injuries be attributed to one sport."

"Ha! There speaks a man who has never played rugby," she chuckled. "Though you may have a point. Hermione's been here for only two years. Last year she spent the majority of her time petrified – as in turned to stone, not afraid. First year her friend Ron was nearly killed by an enormous moving chess piece… seems like every other week the _Prophet_ reports a splicing, whatever that is."

Remus grimaced. "You make our world sound so violent."

Amelia checked herself, realising that she might have offended him and continued carefully. "Though having said that, the Muggle world isn't much better. It tends to oscillate between terror scares and pandemics, so it's more or less the same." She gave a hollow laugh, "and you should hear the stories I could tell about the city I took my degree in… Still, magic does seem to be rather more explosive than I was imagining."

Lupin had to agree.

"There was a girl here when I was a student, name of Ione, very nice girl – a Ravenclaw – bit quiet. Things blew up around her with alarming frequency."

"I hear that Seamus Finnegan hasn't spent a week here entirely in the possession of his own eyebrows."

They grinned at one another, earlier discomfort dismissed.

"I'm serious though," he continued, "it's even in the grounds. Everything seems so peaceful and yet…

"You see that tree down there, just across from Hagrid's? That's the Whomping Willow; it was planted in my first year, tends to wallop anything that gets too near it. Then there's the main doors, of course: beautifully carved, the peak of fashion when they were made I'd imagine… but then you look a bit closer and see the bolts from top to bottom. Those doors aren't there for aesthetics any more than the metre-thick walls."

"You really take your subject seriously, don't you," Amelia observed, looking the man beside her up and down.

"With good reason," he said, wearily. "I remember a time when those doors were put to good use." He looked at her eyes, narrowing at him in the moonlight. "But that's quite enough doom and gloom for one evening, I think."

Amelia was inclined to agree; looking out at the grounds once more she noticed that the soft glow of the moon was retreating behind the clouds. Suddenly the pleasantly cool breeze she had hitherto been enjoying made her shiver and pull her robes close around her.

Remus must have noticed as he turned the conversation to lighter things, describing the nearby village of Hogsmeade and giving some of the history of Hogwarts, embellished, she suspected, by memories of his school days.

It was very late indeed when they finally decided to turn in, Lupin helping Amelia find her was back into familiar territory ("Bloody staircases! Got a mind of their own most of the time!").

There was a note under her door from Dumbledore when she returned, detailing in full the Ministry regulations for safety in the classroom, probably in response to the earlier incident. Amelia stood for a while and tried to imagine anything that might make Dumbledore use the castle's defences, before deciding that it was probably better not to dwell on such things.


	5. Dress in Drag and Do the Hula

Despite Poppy Pomfrey's best efforts to rid herself of the little oik, Draco Malfoy remained in the Hospital Wing until much later in the week. Amelia, who was delighted to discover that he had not deigned to take her class, had rather a good week in between cheering up Hagrid and listening to Hermione grumble.

She'd noticed her cousin become crabbier as the week wore on, despite her enthusiasm for her new subjects, leading Amelia to check upon time-travel related problems in the Library. By all accounts, except for exhaustion, she was satisfied that Hermione would be alright using her time-turner, always assuming that she kept her common sense.

It was Thursday afternoon when Amelia found herself sitting in a cold and silent staff room, peacefully reading across from an equally cold and silent Severus Snape. They'd exchanged pleasantries, of course, as colleagues do: Amelia with a smile, Severus with a sneer. The room had since lapsed into that dusty silence found in libraries, museums and staffrooms, punctuated only by the turning of pages and the distant sound of children learning (or at the very least, being taught at). It was a long, panelled room full of old, mismatched chairs, most of which, she'd quickly discovered, were not in the least bit comfortable.

Amelia had just finished her most recent chapter and had been about to stretch when the door opened quite abruptly.

Remus strode in, closely followed by a bemused but intrigued third-year class, Hermione among them. Both Amelia and Snape looked up as they filed in; Hermione gave Amelia a small smile whilst Snape sneered in Remus's direction.

As Lupin made to close the door Snape rose, saying "Leave it open, Lupin. I'd rather not witness this." He strode past the class, his black robes billowing out behind him. At the doorway he turned on his heel and said, "Possibly no-one's warned you, Lupin, but this class contains Neville Longbottom. I would advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult. Not unless Miss Granger is hissing instructions in his ear."

Neville went scarlet; most of the class were now glaring at Snape. Amelia felt her mouth fall open in shock and disapproval; surely the man couldn't be this rude to his students!

Lupin had raised his eyebrows.

"I was hoping that Neville would assist me with the first stage of the operation," he said, "and I'm sure he'll perform it admirably." _Just like his Mum and Dad would have, you pernicious bastard,_ he thought.

Neville's face went, if possible, even redder. Snape's lip curled, but he left, shutting the door with a snap.

Lupin turned to Amelia, who was still frowning in a disapproving manner.

"We won't be long, Miss Brown, if you don't mind?"

"Not at all, Professor, this promises to be most informative." She gave Neville a heartening wink as Lupin nodded and continued.

"Now then," he said, beckoning the class to the front of the room, where there was nothing except an old wardrobe in which the teachers kept their spare robes. As Lupin went to stand next to it, the wardrobe gave a sudden wobble, banging off the wall.

"Nothing to worry about," said Lupin calmly, as a few people jumped backwards in alarm. "There's a boggart in there."

Most of the students seemed to feel that this _was_ something to worry about. Neville gave his teacher a look of pure terror, and Seamus Finnegan eyed the now rattling doorknob apprehensively; Amelia, none the wiser, leaned forward in interest.

"Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces," said Lupin. "Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks – I once met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock. _This_ one moved in yesterday afternoon, and I asked the Headmaster if the staff would leave it to give my third-years some practice.

"So, the first question we must ask ourselves is, what _is_ a Boggart?"

Hermione put up her hand.

"It's a shape-shifter," she said. "It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most."

"Couldn't have put it better myself," said Lupin, and Hermione glowed. "So the Boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. He does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a Boggart looks like when he is alone, but when I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears.

"This means," he continued, choosing to ignore Neville's small splutter of terror, "that we have a huge advantage over the Boggart before we begin. Have you spotted it, Harry?"

Hermione, desperate to answer another question was bobbing up and down on the balls of her feet with her hand high in the air. Amelia smiled slightly, her cousin's excitement appeared to be putting Harry off to some extent, but he had a go.

"Er – because there are so many of us, it won't know what shape it should be?"

"Precisely," said Lupin, and Hermione put her hand down looking a little disappointed. "It's always best to have company when you're dealing with a Boggart. He becomes confused. What should he become, a headless corpse or a flesh-eating slug? I once saw a Boggart make that very mistake – tried to frighten two people at once and turned himself into half a slug. Not remotely frightening.

"The charm that repels a Boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a Boggart is _laughter_. What you need to force it to do is assume a shape that you find amusing.

"We will practice the charm without wands first. After me, please… _riddikulus_!"

"Riddikulus!" said the class together.

"Good," said Lupin. "Very good. But that was the easy part, I'm afraid. You see the word alone is not enough. And this is where you come in, Neville."

The wardrobe shook again, though not as much as Neville, who walked forwards as if he were heading to the gallows.

"Right, Neville," said Lupin. "First thing's first: what would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the world"

Neville's lips moved, but no sound came out.

"Didn't catch that Neville, sorry," said Lupin cheerfully. Neville looked around rather wildly, as though begging someone to help him, then said, in barely more than a whisper, "Professor Snape."

Nearly everyone laughed. Even Neville grinned apologetically. Lupin, however, looked thoughtful.

"Professor Snape… hmmm… Neville, I believe you live with your grandmother?"

"Er – yes," said Neville, nervously. "But – I don't want the Boggart to turn into her, either."

"No, no, you misunderstand me," said Lupin, now smiling. "I wonder, could you tell us what sort of clothes your grandmother usually wears?"

Neville looked startled, but said, "Well… always the same hat. A tall one with a stuffed vulture on top. And a long dress… green normally… and sometimes a fox-fur scarf."

"And a handbag?" prompted Lupin.

"A big red one," said Neville.

"Right then," said Lupin. "Can you picture those clothes very clearly, Neville? Can you see them in your mind's eye?"

"Yes," said Neville, plainly wondering what was coming next.

"When the Boggart bursts out of this wardrobe, Neville, and sees you, it will assume the form of Professor Snape," said Lupin. "And you will raise your wand – thus – and cry 'Riddikulus!' – and concentrate hard on your grandmother's clothes. If all goes well, Professor Boggart Snape will be forced into that vulture-topped hat, that green dress, that big red handbag."

There was a great shout of laughter. The wardrobe wobbled more violently.

"If Neville is successful, the Boggart is likely to turn his attentions to each of us in turn," he said. "I would like all of you to take a moment now to think of the thing that scares you most, and imagine how you might force it to look comical."

The room went quiet as the class concentrated upon its fears; Amelia could feel a lot of fright in the room, but also a lot of laughter brewing. A wave of horror touched her and she shifted her attention to Harry, who shivered. She could only imagine the darkness he'd seen in his short life. Suddenly, she hoped that the Boggart would not turn its attentions to Hermione, or there would be a few more truths (and a good few more nightmares) out in the open than there needed to be…

"Everybody ready?" Lupin asked. "Neville, we're going to back away. Let you have a clear field, all right? I'll call the next person forward… everyone back now, so Neville can get a clear shot…"

They all retreated, backing against the walls, leaving Neville alone beside the wardrobe. He looked pale and frightened, but he had pushed up the sleeves of his robes and was holding his wand ready. Amelia smiled to herself, there was a lot of fight in this outwardly timid boy.

"On the count of three, Neville," said Lupin, who was pointing his own wand at the handle of the wardrobe. "One – two – three – _now!_"

A jet of sparks shot from the end of Lupin's wand and hit the doorknob. The wardrobe burst open. Hook-nosed and menacing, Professor Snape stepped out, his eyes flashing at the boy before him.

Neville backed away, his wand up, mouthing wordlessly. Snape was bearing down upon him, reaching inside his robes.

"R-r-riddikulus!" squeaked Neville.

There was a noise like a whip-crack. Snape stumbled; he was wearing a long, lace-trimmed dress and a towering hat topped with a moth-eaten vulture, and swinging a huge crimson handbag from his hand.

There was a roar of laughter; the Boggart paused, confused, and Lupin shouted, "Parvati! Forward!"

Parvati walked forward, her face set. Snape rounded on her. There was another crack, and where he had stood was a blood-stained, bandaged mummy; it's sightless face was turned to Parvati and it began to walk towards her, very slowly, dragging its feet, its stiff arms rising –

"Riddikulus!" cried Parvati.

A bandage unravelled at the mummy's feet; it became entangled, fell face forwards and its head rolled off.

"Seamus!" roared Lupin.

Seamus darted past Parvati.

_Crack!_ Where the mummy had been was a woman with floor length black hair and a skeletal, green-tinged face – a banshee. She opened her mouth wide, and an unearthly sound filled the room, a long, wailing shriek which made the hair on the back of Amelia's neck stand on end –

"Riddikulus!" shouted Seamus.

The banshee made a rasping noise and clutched her throat; her voice was gone.

_Crack!_ The banshee became a rat, which chased its tail in a circle, then – _crack!_ – became a rattlesnake, which slithered and writhed before – _crack!_ – becoming a single, bloody eyeball.

"It's confused!" shouted Lupin. "We're getting there! Dean!"

Dean hurried forward.

_Crack!_ The eyeball became a severed hand, which flipped over, and began to creep along the floor like a crab.

"Riddikulus!" yelled Dean.

There was snap, and the hand was trapped in a mousetrap.

"Excellent! Ron, you next!"

Ron leapt forward.

_Crack!_

Quite a few people screamed. A giant spider, six feet tall and covered in hair, was advancing on Ron, clicking its pincers menacingly. For a moment Harry thought Ron had frozen. Then –

"Riddikulus!" bellowed Ron, and the spider's legs vanished. It rolled over and over; Lavendar Brown squealed and ran out of its way and it came to a halt at Harry's feet. He raised his wand, ready, but –

"Here!" shouted Lupin suddenly, hurrying forward.

_Crack!_

The legless spider had vanished. For a second everyone looked wildly around to see where it was. Then they saw a silvery white orb hanging in the air in front of Lupin, who said "Riddikulus!" almost lazily.

_Crack!_

"Forward, Neville, and finish him off!" said Lupin, as the Boggart landed on the floor as a cockroach. _Crack!_ Snape was back. This time Neville charged forward looking determined.

"Riddikulus!" he shouted, and they had a spilt second's view of Snape in his lacy dress before Neville let out a great "Ha!" of laughter, and the Boggart exploded, burst into a thousand tiny wisps of smoke and was gone.

"Excellent!" cried Lupin, as the class broke into applause. "Excellent, Neville. Let me see… five points to Gryffindor for every person to tackle the Boggart – ten for Neville because he did it twice – and five each to Harry and Hermione."

"But I didn't do anything," said Harry.

"You and Hermione answered my questions correctly at the start of the class, Harry," Lupin said lightly. "Very well, everyone, an excellent lesson. Homework, kindly read the chapter on Boggarts and summarise it for me… to be handed in on Monday. That will be all."

As the class filed out, chattering excitedly, Amelia went to retrieve her book, which had fallen behind her chair when Ron's spider had made its appearance.

"I think that went rather well," said Lupin, examining the now Boggart-free wardrobe.

"It was pretty cool," smiled Amelia. "Though I was relieved that you stopped Harry having a go." _Hermione too, for that matter._ "I wouldn't like to speculate on what that Boggart would have become if it had gotten to him."

"No, well, precisely," said Lupin, a little absently. "I rather assumed that it would take the form of Lord Voldemort – not the sort of thing a class full of third-years ought to see in their first week back.

"Your cousin's bright," he said, closing the wardrobe and looking up at the witch.

Amelia nodded, "And apparently as much of an academic show-off as I used to be…"

The corners of Remus's mouth twitched upwards, "I can well imagine."

"Oy!" she returned, playfully. "I'll have you know that seven years of state schooling beat it out of me; you won't catch me raising my hand anymore unless it's important."

"Sorry."

"It's fine."

"I used to be just the same, you know. Spent a lot of time in the Library, avoiding that 'beating' you mentioned… although here it was generally a 'hexing' instead."

"I was library monitor for three years, voluntarily."

"It seems we've established equal standing in the geekiness stakes then," Remus said, his smile growing.

"So it would appear."

There was one of those odd pauses that people new to one another sometimes experience.

"So, tell me about Boggarts," Amelia said, breaking the slightly awkward silence. "What happens to them when they vanish? Do they die? How do they get into the dark spaces if they're so agoraphobic? How do they reproduce?"

Remus raised his hands at the onslaught as he took a seat near to the wardrobe.

"One at a time, please!"

Amelia chuckled, "Sorry, this is all new and exciting to me."

"Fair enough. Now, Boggarts are probably responsible for the bogey-man myth that Muggle fiction references so often…"

0o0o0o0

They spent a pleasant hour discussing the magical origins of various Muggle myths before departing for dinner.

Both Remus and Amelia had a hard job keeping straight faces as they passed Severus, who scowled unpleasantly at them. Amelia noticed that a good portion of the Gryffindor table were shooting him furtive looks and snickering.

Clearly, word had spread around the castle rapidly as Pomona Sprout instantly cornered her to substantiate the rumour. She and Remus spent a hysterical ten minutes regaling Pomona, Poppy Pomfrey and Filius Flitwick with the tale of Severus and Black Lace, before the five of them, red-faced and breathless, joined the rest of the staff at the high table. As Pomona surreptitiously (or at least what she imagined was surreptitiously) spread the story further a-field, even Minerva was having a hard time maintaining a straight face; Hagrid was sniggering behind an enormous handkerchief and Dumbledore periodically snorted into his dinner.

Desperate to maintain some semblance of responsibility amongst the staff, Amelia desperately tried to keep a lid on her mirth, and just about managed this until pudding was served and she caught Hermione's eye across the hall. The younger witch used that silent form of communication that the two of them occasionally shared, and an image from Amelia's childhood resurfaced, unbidden, from the depths of Disney's Lion King. Eyes widening, she clapped a hand to her mouth to unsuccessfully stifle the 'coughing fit' that this produced. When Remus finally managed to get coherent words out of her, all she could manage was "What do you want me to do? Dress in Drag and do the Hula?" before she dissolved into another bout of giggles.

At the Gryffindor table, Hermione was faring little better and had grabbed the sleeve of a bewildered Ron and hissed "Live bait! Luau! If you're hungry for a hunk of fat and juicy meat, eat my buddy Pumba here because he is a treat! Come on down and dine on this tasty swine – all you have to do is get in line!" before she too was beyond hope.


	6. Just a Cup of Tea

The next week began predictably enough, everyone having settled into the rhythm of the school term. The first set of assignments were beginning to trickle back to the teachers and as a consequence, tables piled high with scrolls of parchment were beginning to become a familiar sight in the staffroom.

Pretty much everyone taking Muggle Studies was enjoying themselves, much to Amelia's delight, which unfortunately meant that they'd put more than usual into their first batch of homework. While she was greatly impressed by this effort, she found herself beginning to wish that her students would stick to the page limit.

Hermione had quickly reached the conclusion that Divination was a complete waste of her time and spent a good amount of Monday lunchtime in Amelia's office, alternating between impersonating Sybill Trelawney and fuming about Snape's latest attacks on Neville. The story of the Boggart had apparently not been to the older wizard's taste, so he was taking every opportunity to bully Neville; one advantage of his fury from Amelia's point of view, was that he immediately vacated a room whenever Lupin entered it. The two of them had made great use of this the previous evening and had successfully chased the Potions Master around the castle in a delightful fit of childishness.

Hermione was regaling her cousin with an energetic impression of Sybill sighting the Grim when Remus wandered in. Once he'd informed her that Harry and Ron were looking for her she hurried off, rather embarrassed. The two adults managed to contain their mirth until the office door had snapped closed, but then they roared with laughter.

When they'd pulled themselves together Remus pulled up a chair, saying "I take it that Miss Granger has a healthy respect for Sybill."

Amelia rolled her eyes. "They've certainly got on the wrong side of each other. I believe Sybill insulted book learning almost as soon as they sat down."

"Ah. Well no wonder Hermione can't stand her, I should have guessed…" he chuckled.

"I take it that you were less than impressed with the subject in your own third year?"

"It just seemed unscientific," he said, shrugging. "Of course, it wasn't Sybill back then, it was Professor Nottage; he was pretty good as a seer, but a bloody awful teacher. He used to talk in such a soft voice, and at such a length, that none of us ever managed to get anything done in class, which more or less trebled our homework."

"We had one of those in year seven – sorry, first year – for Geography. I more or less memorised the textbook that year… colouring the maps in when he wasn't paying attention was quite fun though."

Remus chortled. "I hear that Sybill has a practice of killing off one student a year… possibly in the hopes of one day being proved right. Minerva was livid."

"Hermione was pretty steamed, too," she agreed. "She picked on Harry this year."

"What?" cried Remus, standing suddenly.

"What on Earth's the matter?" she asked in mild alarm.

"It's just – Black, he's been sighted nearby, and with a prediction like that – you know the Ministry thinks he's after Harry –" he was becoming increasingly agitated.

"But it's _Sybill_!" she cut in, anxiously. "According to Poppy, she's predicted the death of one child every year since she got here, and every one of them is in perfect health!"

"Yes, but with Black on the loose – well, she may be right – Harry could be in danger!" he was pacing the room now, his long strides making quick work of the limited floor space.

Amelia held his arm, halting his progress.

"The only thing Harry is in danger of right now is dying of natural causes," she bridled a little under his incredulous gaze. "Oh, look! If Sybill waits long enough she's bound to be right eventually. There's no real reason to suppose that Black has business with Harry or anyone else at Hogwarts, no matter what the Ministry say." Although she sounded confident, Arthur's words sprung unhelpfully to mind _'He's at Hogwarts…'_

Remus turned to look at her then, and she saw real fear in his eyes.

"Is there?" she demanded.

"Well…"

Amelia felt her demeanour cascade from incredulity to concern.

"Look, Hermione and Ron look out for him; if someone's going after Harry I can't see either one of them stepping aside to let him through."

They sat back down, closer to the fire; it seemed to Mel that in the firelight her scruffy Professor had aged suddenly.

"Sirius Black was a big supporter of Lord Voldemort," he began, quietly. "You know of Harry's claim to fame, I assume? It's only natural to assume that Black would want to kill the person who, to all intents and purposes, destroyed his master.

"They say that when Black was caught," he continued, slowly, and it seemed that the words wounded him a little, "he was laughing. He'd just murdered thirteen people and blown a residential street apart. He was fairly deranged when they took him to Azkaban, I can only imagine what twelve years in that place did for his handle on reality."

He shuddered, and they were quiet for a moment, Amelia struggling to imagine the possibility of being able to go madder than a giggling mass murderer; Remus was apparently lost in his own thoughts.

"That's not the worst of it you know," he said darkly, a shadow having clouded his already sombre features. "The night that Harry's parents were killed, they had been hiding from Lord Voldemort for some time. Black served them up to him on a platter. If he hadn't, well… they may have been here now." _And Harry and I wouldn't be alone_, he thought, bitterly.

"They'd been school friends, you see, and James and Lily trusted him completely."

Amelia realised that her hands were pressed against her cheeks and quickly removed them, leaving faint white fingerprints on her skin.

"Remus… that's awful – there are no words…"

"And now, with Black being sighted so close to Hogwarts and Sybill's prediction."

They looked at each other for a moment in the flickering firelight.

"I don't think we should make too much of it…" Amelia began slowly, as Remus's eyebrows arched skywards. "The school is surrounded by Dementors, drenched in protective magic and full of talented witches and wizards – even if he did come for Harry, he'd be caught before he crossed the entrance courtyard."

"He's eluded Dementors before…" retorted Remus, apparently determined to cling to his discomfort. Amelia lost her temper.

"Oh for Gods' sake Remus, it was just a cup of tea! My primary school teacher could make better predictions than that old fraud!" she snapped, exasperated. She stood up abruptly and walked back to her desk. "Anyway, don't you have class in a few minutes?" she demanded.

"I do actually," he said, somewhat meekly. Her expression softened a little.

"Look, I'm sorry. Black is a real threat, but Harry is well protected here, and I don't think we should allow some false prophesy go to our heads – particularly when by all accounts Harry isn't letting it go to his."

His features softened.

"You're probably right… though I may speak to him – just to see how he's doing!" he added, seeing her dander rise again. "I was good friends with his parents; I owe it to them to see he's alright."

Seeing that Amelia still looked dubious he decided to lighten the mood. With an altogether too calculated air of innocence he added, "It'll just be a cup of tea," and retreated at top speed, narrowly avoiding the cushion that rebounded off the wall next to his head.

0o0o0o0

Having marked her fifth-year students' initial project plans, including an uncharacteristically thorough example from the Weasley twins, Amelia headed down to the staffroom, passing a cloud of angry Snape as she did so, his cloak billowing out behind him.

She watched him stalk down the corridor in bemusement before shaking her head and entering the staffroom; it was as if every stone in the building had insulted his mother.

Poppy Pomfrey was occupying a chair near to the newly Boggart-free wardrobe and was doing her level best not to meet the eyes of Professor Dockrill, who was ostensibly hiding behind his own beard. The room's only other occupant hadn't noticed Amelia come in.

Sybill Trelawney, as draped with amulets and shawls as before, was stood in the middle of the room, muttering to herself in confusion.

"I can't imagine what it was I said… perhaps his star is in the wrong quarter, after all Saturn is rising this week… I've told him I've _seen_ it, but he just won't –"

Poppy, sensing a chance for escape stood, and with as straight a face as she could muster, put a comforting arm around Sybill's shoulders.

"You could always double-check the cards, my dear – or consult the runes –" she glanced at Professor Dockrill, who was suddenly very interested in the embroidery on his sleeve (and desperately resisting the urge to comment on said 'runes'), "to see what the best way to approach the problem could be…"

Sybill looked up, apparently overjoyed. "Do you think – that could be it you know! I'll go directly!"

With that, she turned to rush out back to her trapdoor-guarded tower, shawls and jewellery whirling around her like some demented exotic dancer; Poppy only just dodged back in time to avoid being caught in the various layers of chintz.

She squinted at Amelia through her inch-think, bottle-ended glasses.

"Oh my dear, it's good to see you again so soon – you must beware my dear, I sense your path runs into darkness."

Sybill swept past an astonished Amelia and into the corridor beyond.

"Well," sad Poppy, apparently at a loss.

"What in Gods' names was that all about?" asked Amelia, not sure if she was more perplexed by the alleged seer's general behaviour or of her casual, if vague, assessment of the perils of Amelia's immediate future.

Professor Dockrill, who had been startled out of his detailed examination of his somewhat ornate cuffs, rolled his eyes.

"She rather enjoys making dramatic proclamations at people, I shouldn't let it worry you… and as for the rest, well!"

Poppy reclaimed her seat and Amelia followed suit. Poppy and Martin exchanged knowing looks; Martin, she noticed, was now grinning.

"Go on," she prompted. "You can't just put that out there and leave me hanging."

"Sybill has, how shall I put this: a long standing affection for Severus," explained Poppy.

"Claims to have seen them together in one of her 'visions'," Martin put in. "Severus has been made perfectly aware of her intentions on several occasions – some of them rather publicly. It's safe to say that he doesn't return her affections –"

"Quite clearly."

"– but she won't give up. Understandably, the whole situation makes him deeply, deeply uncomfortable."

"And although it makes anyone else in a two-hundred metre radius equally uncomfortable," Martin interjected, that tell-tale twinkle in his eye, "it's also bloody hysterical!"

"Martin, really!" admonished Poppy, slapping him playfully on the arm, though she herself was smiling. "Now, if you two will excuse me, the Ravenclaws are trying out for the quidditch team today – I'm expecting some spectacular injuries."

"Perhaps you'd join me for a cup of tea, Amelia," proposed Martin, watching Poppy bustle off. "I'd love to hear what my brother's been up to recently."

Amelia warmly agreed and followed her colleague towards his office in the base of the western tower. As they crossed into the first floor corridor all of the torches snapped out quite suddenly and the windows clouded over, leaving the two teachers – and several abruptly unhappy students – in pitch darkness.

After a few minutes of confusion the source of the charm was located in the form of two sixth-year Hufflepuffs, apparently determined to put some of their innate creativity into terrifying a few hapless first-years. After daylight had been restored and detentions doled out, the two colleagues continued on their way. Behind them a Ravenclaw first year remarked to her friend, "I wouldn't want to meet either of those two in a dark alley…"

0o0o0o0

Upon entering Professor Dockrill's office, Amelia was once again struck by the similarity between the two brothers; the room reminded her strongly of her bright college days. Two Lewis chessmen were gurning at one another and biting their shields on the wizard's desk; there was a suit of armour in the corner, currently being employed as a coat rack; a selection of swords and battleaxes were leaning against the room's many bookcases. To her growing delight, Amelia noticed that every inch of wall that wasn't taken up by bookcases was covered by maps – many of them familiar.

She was reminiscing about muddy boots in distant, rain-soaked fields when she caught sight of a trio of familiar faces, grinning and waving out of their frame. She grinned, remembering her old tutor and her somewhat cantankerous partner in crime. There was a model of a dalek next to the picture; it appeared to be engaged in combat with a tiny plastic knight. _Some things must just run in families_, she mused as Martin strode back in with a proffered mug of tea, which she graciously accepted.

The teachers spent an absorbing afternoon discussing the various sites and finds they had in common, Martin often revealing magical aspects of the North Atlantic of which Amelia had hitherto been unaware.

Their discussion ended with Martin lending her a fascinating book on the use of magic during the Pictish-Viking transition in the Northern Isles. She was still engrossed in this two evenings later, contentedly curled up with a mug of tea in an alcove overlooking the Clocktower courtyard.

She was at that point particularly intrigued by a reference to an Iron Age tablet recording the names of indentured House Elves when she was rudely disturbed by the sudden appearance of Severus Snape, who, with a whirl of his robes, flattened himself against the wall of the alcove in apparent terror.

Amelia reflexively reached for her wand – her recent conversation with Remus having made her battle-anxious – but Severus shook his head, desperately. Perplexed, she raised her eyebrows, questioningly, one hand still hovering over her wand pocket, book grasped tightly in the other.

The noise of an opening door and the patter of determined footfalls answered her query and she rose, about to speak, but Snape waved frantically at her to be silent. The footsteps paused some way along the corridor, and then out of the darkness came a tremulous voice:

"Severus, darling, where are you?"

Realisation dawned and Amelia, who was in danger of being engulfed in the hilarity of the situation, cocked her head to one side and gave Snape a questioning look. His dark eyes pleaded with her and he appeared to be attempting to disappear through the wall.

Amelia moved out into the passage before Snape could stop her, face carefully confused, book poised as if Sybill had simply disturbed her quiet reading.

"Sybill? Is everything alright?"

Professor Trelawney, visibly startled, checked herself.

"Oh – yes, my dear… I've been looking for Severus, did you see him pass?" a shadow of suspicion crossed the seer's face. "He's not back there with you is he?" she demanded, moving forward purposefully; behind her, she glimpsed Severus slide down the wall in dread.

Not wanting to become entangled in a truly bizarre love triangle, Amelia raised her hand to halt Sybill's progress and said, in mock disappointment, "What, in my cosy little alcove? No, no. I'm afraid there's no such starlit tryst in store for me this evening, I'm afraid."

Amelia glanced at Sybill's absurd glasses and took a gamble.

"He dashed past me not five minutes ago – said he needed some plant extracts from Pomona from one of his classes – something about Albus instituting a last minute change to the schedule…"

"Oh, well…" the other woman began, distractedly. "If he's on the Headmaster's business, then… Herbology, you say? Hmm…" she appeared to come to a decision, and with a flurry of shawls made a beeline for the greenhouses, calling "your aura is showing kindness tonight, dear," over her shoulder as she departed.

Amelia sat back down in the alcove and surveyed her fallen colleague before, succumbing, at last, to silent laughter.

Snape, still slumped across from her, glared at his rescuer from between his fingers for a good thirty seconds before he too began to laugh.

They remained thus for some time: one slumped against a wall, the other against a window, tears of silent and unexpected laughter streaming down their faces, trying not to catch one another's eyes in order to prevent their peculiar situation from worsening.

Once they had regained some semblance of composure they stood, Amelia collecting her things, Severus his thoughts.

"You know, I was beginning to think you couldn't laugh," she glanced up him, his sneer wavering for a moment as he appraised his new colleague.

"I consider many things at which people laugh unfunny – and I have my rather dour reputation to think of," to her surprise, Amelia noticed his eyes sparkling with mirth. "I tend to keep my amusement to myself."

"Well I'm glad you chose to share."

He nodded graciously, sneer still firmly in place.

They walked together towards the main staircase, silently contemplating their new alliance.

"Thank you," he said.

"Hmmm?"

"For distracting her – she doesn't give up."

"You could tell her that you don't feel that way about her…"

Severus stopped dead and turned to Amelia in frustration.

"I have told her, time and time again; she just won't take no for an answer –"

"You've told her then, that her love is unrequited?"

"On many occasions – I don't know how much plainer I can be!" he threw his head back in irritation. "It's getting absurd. I know the staff are laughing at me, and now the students are beginning to as well."

Amelia looked the frustrated man in front of her up and down and decided, rather on impulse, that he needed her help.

"Look," she began, "if you need somewhere to escape for a bit, come and hide in my office – I'm sure Sybill's inner eye won't find you there." Seeing the hesitant expression on the older man's face, she added. "You could bring your marking, or a good book, or –" she smiled, remembering an earlier conversation, "just have a cup of tea."

Severus appeared to be considering this.

"And in return?"

"Pardon me?"

"It has been my experience, Miss Brown, that people seldom do things for others – particularly those who are new to a place."

Stung and affronted, Amelia snapped, "Oh, you Slytherins! Well, if you don't need my help!"

Severus had the decency to look sheepish – her offer was tempting, after all. Despite her defiantly chirpy manner and complete inability to stifle her own amusement, he had seen on several occasions his new acquaintance's absorption in books. _At least she has the ability to be quiet_, he thought.

"Sorry, I suppose I do." He looked for a moment as if he were about to say more, but apparently thought better of it.

"… I guess you could teach me some potions – I mean, you are aware of my… situation, and the scuttlebutt is that you really know your way around a cauldron."

He nodded his affirmation with raised eyebrows, possibly at her weird turn of phrase. Again they walked in silence for a time, until, as if unsure his mind was in one piece, "Did you really just say 'scuttlebutt'?"


	7. Grindylows and Clandestine Talents

Halloween proved to be interesting subject matter for her students: Amelia set several research projects on the recent Muggle perception of the festival and the wizarding community, resulting in several side-splitting presentations from both her first and fifth years. On the final set of lessons before Samhain she showed Halloween films roughly appropriate to each year group, with unexpected assistance of Argus Filch and an ingenious clockwork and magical projector that he'd apparently been working on for years in secret.

She noticed that some of the Professors were sneaking in to watch the films in their free periods; Amelia guessed that movie going wasn't a luxury frequently enjoyed by the wizarding community.

With this in mind, and in view of the open hilarity which greeted the Muggle portrayal of their world, Amelia proposed to Professor Dumbledore that they show a Halloween film for the whole school, in respect of the festival.

"That's not a bad idea you know," the Headmaster said, munching thoughtfully on some kind of sweet. They were sat in his office on Thursday morning, watching the rain drops lazily travel down the panes of glass in the window.

"I'm always trying to encourage people's understanding of the Muggle world, a good flick would be a novel way to get them all thinking," he continued. "Do you have anything in mind?"

Amelia considered this for a moment before saying, "Well, it can't be anything too gory – I mean I'm all for a good scare, but still…" she glanced at the open newspaper on the Headmaster's desk. Black had again been sighted, this time at Dovetown, only a few miles from Hogsmeade; this news had provoked what could only be described as excitement amongst the Dementors. Only the evening before Minerva had confided in her that she was worried they'd want to search the school – not a thought which much appealed to anyone.

"No indeed," said Dumbledore, and she was certain that for a moment he too glanced at the screaming face of the escaped convict. "Something funnier, perhaps."

"Funny, but not overly soppy… something that the first-years will get but that the seventh-years won't find to childish…" she thought for a moment; options flicking past her mind's eye like the film they were played upon.

"I've got it!" she exclaimed. "Hocus Pocus. It's a little old fashioned in terms of evil witches attempting to eat children," – behind his desk, Dumbledore chuckled – "but it's funny as hell – and the good guys win in the end."

"That sounds perfect. Now, I don't think we should show it during the feast, and Halloween is Hogsmeade weekend, so if you show it during the day hardly anyone will attend. How about tomorrow evening? Can you be ready by then?"

Amelia was fleetingly reminded of the demands of stage managing, and just how much she enjoyed running around fixing last minute hitches.

"I don't see why not," she smiled.

"Good. I'll announce it this evening, shall I?" he asked, eyes twinkling.

0o0o0o0

Amelia was impressed at the buzz her proposal had caused in the school. By midday on Friday, several people had popped into her office to congratulate her on, as Martin Dockrill put it: "A capital idea, my girl!"

Even Severus has visited early in the afternoon, though his furtive glances towards the door suggested that he had an ulterior motive. So it was that when Lupin knocked on her door shortly before dinner, she was not particularly surprised.

"Hocus Pocus?" he asked, moving aside a stack of marking from a chair before settling himself down.

"It's a very silly film."

"Good though?"

"Still makes me laugh – though I admit that isn't difficult."

"I heard one of the fourth-years complaining that it's a children's film." He put his head slightly to one side as if he were analysing her answer. The effect was somewhere between disconcerting and adorable.

"And?" she challenged. "A good proportion of the inhabitants of this school are children," she chuckled, "anyway, I used to watch it with the craft club in University. It's pretty damn' funny. There's an angry zombie and everything."

Remus frowned, feeling that he was on slightly more familiar territory here. "How can a zombie be angry? They're devoid of emotion."

Amelia grinned, "Not this one!"

0o0o0o0

The film was an immense success, enjoyed both by the students and staff. People seemed to be amused by both the attitude towards witchcraft and the characters of the witches themselves; many of the staff and more diligent students could be found merrily discussing the implausibility of most of the narrative.

Amelia quickly found herself dragged off into a corner by Pomona, Poppy and – for some reason – Minerva; the former were discussing the plot, Minerva occasionally interjecting observations with an amused expression.

After a few minute of what could be referred to as critical analysis Amelia excused herself to help Argus clear up and thank him for his help; as she went to leave Minerva touched her arm briefly.

"We're going for a drink in Hogsmeade tomorrow, if you'd care to join us – I'd like to discuss a few things."

Amelia, though pleased at the invitation, was a little perplexed at Minerva's chosen turn of phrase, but nonetheless she quickly acquiesced.

"3 o'clock at the Three Broomsticks?"

"I'll be there," she nodded as she walked towards the far end of the hall where Mrs Norris had become entangled in some of the equipment. There was a fair amount of cursing emanating from Argus Filch, who was trying to free her.

Once the cat was freed (and clinging to Filch's shoulders), it didn't take long to pack up the equipment and, leaving Filch muttering about Peeves and broom closets, she began to stroll to the library with the idea of picking up some bedtime reading. She was met at the door by Severus, who had apparently had the same thought.

"Not bad, Brown," he said, nodding as he passed her, sneer still meticulously in place. "I may even use it – my seventh years are starting rejuvenation potions this week."

Amelia smiled and let him pass, robes billowing out behind him, pausing at the end of the corridor to snarl at some sullen-looking fourth-years before swooshing around the corner. She shook her head; he really was an odd man at times.

Heading back up to her rooms she encountered a sleepy-looking Remus Lupin, carrying a bowl of ice-cream back from the kitchens.

"Evening," she greeted; he smiled in response. He couldn't help it around her, he realised. Deciding to put that one aside for later examination, he gestured at the tome in her arms with his illicit snackage.

"A bit of light bedtime reading?" he enquired.

"Something like that; I miss my iPod."

There was a pause.

"Some kind of exotic plant, perhaps?"

Amelia laughed.

"It's a Muggle device that plays music. Something about magic messes with it – and my computer."

"It's odd how that works," he said, nodding. "Electricity and magic have never been particularly co-operative."

"Probably something to do with being elemental forces or something."

Remus nodded. He liked they way she spoke as well, he realised; her peculiar turn of phrase was really quite refreshing.

"Filius suggested a few charms that could be used to insulate them, but I wanted to check they'd be ok first – there's a lot of memories in them, you know. All my life before I got here," she finished, quietly.

"I can see why you'd want to be careful."

They walked on quietly for a while, Amelia humming an old tune to herself, Remus contemplating what precious moments could be sealed in the two mysterious electronic devices that were somewhere in his friend's quarters. _They could work something like a Pensieve_, he mused.

"How's your spellwork coming on, by the way?" he asked, as they started up the main staircase.

"Leaps and bounds, I think. I just seem to pick things up – though I suppose having Hermione as a cousin helps. She's pretty bright when it comes to this stuff, gives me a good background to work from."

"That's good."

"Well, I think so. Plus it gives me the opportunity to get to know people a bit better."

"Yes. I heard that Severus was giving you Potions tuition."

There was something odd about the way Remus had said '_tuition_'.

"He has; he really knows his stuff." In truth, Amelia had been enjoying her fortnightly Potions sessions. She missed cooking, to an extent – and the House Elves were offended if she tried to do it herself, but she was also intrigued by the enigmatic if severe Potions Master. She'd managed to break through his mask a couple more times now, and had delightedly discovered a wonderfully dry sense of humour.

Something seemed to be bothering Remus, and they didn't speak again until they reached the door to his office.

"Are you heading into Hogsmeade tomorrow?" Amelia asked, trying to break him out of this unaccustomed brusqueness. Her question appeared to soften his expression slightly.

"No, sorry."

"Oh. I was hoping you'd give me that tour you promised," she said, a little disappointed.

"Some other time, perhaps. I have to wait in for a delivery – I'm getting a Grindylow in this week." There was disappointment in his voice, too, she noted.

"Another 'dark' creature?" she prompted.

"Indeed."

"Sounds squidgy." She wrinkled her nose at a mental image. "Anyway, to bed." She gave him an awkward smile before setting off along the passage.

"Amelia?" Remus called after her. She turned, wearing a questioning look. "It still wasn't a zombie…"

The corners of their mouths twitched slightly, awkwardness gone.

0o0o0o0

The next day dawned bright and cold, and Amelia rose early. The Great Hall was bustling with activity – students were everywhere, chattering and laughing excitedly, most of them completely occupied with plans for their day of freedom.

As Amelia had decided to take a leisurely breakfast, she hadn't left the Hall as the first and second years, who weren't allowed out of the grounds, began to trickle back to their respective common rooms.

As she made her way down the front steps, she heard Harry saying goodbye to Ron and Hermione and watched him stomp back up the stairs, clearly in something of a funk. Her cousin had told her about Uncle Vernon's reluctance to sign the permission form after he'd blown up Aunt Marge, and then abandoned Amelia to a fresh bout of laughter at the thought of the voluminous woman floating around the rooftops of Surrey with a faintly disapproving air.

She meandered along the path towards the village, enjoying the sound of the wind in the trees and the laughter of the children in front of her – though she was careful not to listen too closely to their words.

Hermione and Ron dropped back out of the chattering crowd to walk with Amelia and they spent a pleasant quarter of an hour idly chattering about nothing in particular. She left them at the edge of the village, where they excitedly headed towards Honeydukes; Amelia wandered to the first shop window. The displays inside were bright and cheerful and generally ignored by the majority of the students (though she suspected that her cousin would be back shortly).

She spent some time in the knitting shop, restocking her yarn stash and picking up some new patterns for Christmas makes. Deciding to take an early lunch in order to avoid the crowds, she headed for an unobtrusive looking café opposite an overly pink tearoom full of dewy eyed couples. This room, however, was rather emptier and had the feel of a place where the locals went out to eat. She settled in a corner near the window, where the weak October light mingled with the warm glow of the candlelight, and tucked into a hearty chicken and red pepper salad.

It wasn't long before she noticed a dark form in the gloomiest corner of the café; she got the rather unsettling feeling that she was being watched. She frowned, making an effort to ignore this unwelcome intrusion into an otherwise enjoyable meal, and continued to gaze out of the window at the hordes of Hogwarts students milling about the street.

Fully engaged in this, Amelia failed to notice the shadow detach itself from the far wall and walk towards her. She looked up as Severus reached her table, glancing for a second at the space where he had previously been lurking.

0o0o0o0

It was nearly three by the time Amelia remembered her commitment to meet Minerva at the Three Broomsticks. She made some hasty arrangements with Severus to meet up later (which suited him, she discovered, since he had plans to harangue the keeper of the Apothecary) and headed towards that infamous tavern.

When she arrived, a little out of breath, Minerva was waiting for her alone and instantly apologised for 'luring' her here under false pretences.

"I wanted to discuss your progress – without the others eavesdropping. They're probably in Madame Puddifoots…" she explained, staring guiltily into her gillywater.

"Well," said Amelia, deciding not to take offence. "You didn't actually fool me… we are both in the Three Broomsticks, and both having a drink," she said, motioning to Madame Rosmerta to bring her a butterbeer.

Minerva looked relieved and offered her a genuine smile before beginning.

"The thing is, Amelia, your rate of learning far surpasses expectation – it's as if you've simply always known these things," she paused, and looked directly at Amelia. "And frankly, it worries me."

Amelia considered this for a moment.

"I think it worries me too. Hermione tells me I notice things that I shouldn't – it's like I can see how a spell works just by looking." Minerva raised an intellectual eyebrow.

"That may be a talent worth investigating…"

"Is it something to do with my… 'reading'?" Amelia asked, suddenly conscious of the number of people in the bustling pub.

"That is likely," Minerva replied, considering this. "It's hard to know sometimes, most readers keep their skills to themselves… reading tends to make other wizards, well, nervous."

Amelia nodded, she couldn't imagine anyone being entirely comfortable around someone who is essentially a telepath.

"You're worried about what other people will think if they see how quickly I'm learning," she said. It wasn't a question.

"Simply put, yes," Minerva replied. She was, truth be told, rather impressed by the younger witch's attitude towards her new difficulties. "If it's alright with you, I would like to meet with you every couple of weeks, just to take a look at your progress, that sort of thing."

"A more paranoid person would suggest that you're keeping a close eye on me," Amelia smiled, wryly.

Minerva smiled back in understanding, "You work in a school for which I have responsibility."

"Damn' straight."

Minerva's smile grew more crafty, Amelia wondered just how much mischief this witch got up to when term was out.

"Plus it would be an interesting opportunity to study a… talent… of this ilk."

Amelia grinned. It felt a little odd to be a test subject, but she would relish the opportunity to learn more about her magic.

The pair stayed long enough to discuss dates and, to Amelia's amusement, possible homework, before going their separate ways. She met up with Severus once more at the dingy pub at the end of the street.

0o0o0o0

Darkness was gathering as they made their way back up to the castle, Severus insisting upon escorting her to the main doors before heading down to the dungeons to freshen up. Remembering Remus's promise of an introduction to a Grindylow, whatever _that_ was, she hurried up to his office with only an hour to spare before the feast, contentedly humming _This is Halloween_.

Remus was finishing marking some second-year essays on Kelpies when Amelia knocked on his door; the Grindylow, a sickly-green creature with sharp little horns, was squelching quietly to itself in the corner.

"Evening," he said, moving on to the next paper.

"Is that the Grindylow?" she asked, crossing to the tank.

"Yes," he replied, without looking up.

Amelia regarded it with some trepidation; it had its ghastly face pressed against the glass and was pulling faces and flexing its long, spindly fingers.

"It_ is_ squidgy," she said, a little disturbed.

Remus chuckled at her assessment, looking up from his paperwork.

"Unpleasant creatures, really. They lure people into marshes and, well," he indicated the Grindylow's hands with the tip of his quill. "Brittle fingers, though – most people panic and try to lash out for the head, but the trick is to break its grip."

He watched her as she pulled a face at the currently bewildered Grindylow which, apparently startled by this unusual response, dived into a tangle of weeds at the back of the tank. He could just see its worried eyes staring out at her.

"Did you have a good day out? I'm sorry I couldn't give you that tour…"

"Oh it was great, actually – managed to find a replacement tour guide for a while, too," she smiled.

"Oh, who?"

"Severus." She moved to the side of the tank to get a better view of Lupin's bizarre new acquisition.

His eyebrows disappeared behind his fringe.

"Severus?" he repeated, incredulously.

"Yes, he's quite knowledgeable about the place, as it turns out. He even put up with the drivel about knitting patterns," she laughed, watching the Grindylow squirm around so it could keep this worrying human in sight, subsequently missing the shadow cross Remus's face.

He glanced at the clock. "Er, shouldn't we be heading down to the feast? It's getting on for time." Amelia started.

"Oh yes, sorry – I was getting a little carried away!" she said, suddenly remembering something. "Actually, I've just got to pop up to my room for a minute, shall I meet you there?"

"Er, yes, I suppose…"

"Ace!" she grinned and dashed off, leaving him stood, stunned and more than a little miffed in the middle of the room, staring after her, hands in pockets.

_I will _not_ be jealous of Severus Snape_, he said to himself, sternly.

The Grindylow blew a raspberry at him.

"Oh, shut up," he said, irritably, before setting off for the Great Hall.

0o0o0o0

She was unsurprised to find Hermione waiting for her outside her rooms and she let the younger witch in, both of them happily chattering about their day. Working quickly, Hermione cleared a space on the living room windowsill facing the sunset, while Amelia went to her chest of drawers in the next room, neither pausing their conversation until the older witch returned, a simple wooden box in hand.

They both took out a candle, one white and one purple, and set them in the windowsill. Hermione lit her candle with her wand, saying "For every one that goes below, another remains above."

Her cousin, deciding to use the matches that were in the box among the candles, lit hers, saying "For those we have lost, be found tonight. These candles lead you home."

The two of them were quiet for a moment before they cleared away the candle box and resumed their conversation. Together, they headed down to the Great Hall, leaving the wicks to burn down alone.

For a moment, though all was still in the room, the candles guttered for a moment, spilling droplets of wax onto the stone beneath them.

0o0o0o0

Hermione met Ron and Harry in the entrance hall, and as Amelia headed up to the high table, Harry told her and Ron about the mysterious potion that Snape had fed to Lupin that morning.

As much as she distrusted Professor Snape, Hermione could not quite believe that he would try to murder another teacher. Logic failing with her friends, as it sometimes did, she attempted reason.

"But if he – you know –" Hermione dropped her voice, glancing nervously around, "if he was trying to – to poison Lupin – he wouldn't have done it in front of Harry."

"Yeah, maybe," said Harry, doubtfully, as they reached the Great Hall. It had been decorated with hundreds and hundreds of candle-filled pumpkins, a cloud of fluttering live bats and many flaming orange streamers, which were swimming lazily across the stormy ceiling like brilliant watersnakes. She glanced up at her cousin, who was looking distinctly impressed by the general splendour. Hermione had to hand it to her teachers, when it came to Halloween parties they couldn't be beaten.

The food was delicious; even she and Ron, full as they were with Honeydukes sweets, managed second helpings of everything. As they ate, Hermione noticed Harry glancing furtively towards the staff table; she followed his line of sight. Professor Lupin looked cheerful and well as he ever did; he was talking animatedly to tiny little Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher. She couldn't help noticing that the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher's gaze kept flicking down the table towards her cousin.

Amelia herself was engaged in conversation with Professor Snape and Professor Sprout, oblivious to this attention. Was she imagining it, or were Snape's eyes flickering towards Lupin more frequently than was natural? She looked back at Lupin, whose gaze was now firmly fixed on her cousin and the Potions Master.

_Oh good grief_, she thought. It seemed that Amelia's knack for getting herself into trouble had once again resurfaced. This revelation in mind, Hermione began to consider the possibility of academic poisoning with slightly more concern.

0o0o0o0

The pudding, which was delicious as usual, was interrupted by the school ghosts, who burst through the walls and performed an aerial display that was much enjoyed by the staff and somewhat surprised students. Conversation continued to burble at the high table as the students thinned out and headed for bed.

As more people left the hall Amelia found herself becoming more and more lethargic; it had been a long day. Soon, she, Severus, Lupin and Pomona were the only ones left at the high table, and even their conversation was beginning to lag, Pomona and Lupin clearly stunned at Severus' unusual verbosity. Pomona was also a little worried by the unfamiliar and unpleasant expression that crossed Lupin's face whenever Severus turned to speak to Amelia.

As they left the Great Hall they were surprised to come across a mass of Gryffindor students, chattering excitedly as they made their way back down the stairs. Percy Weasley, pomposity tempered slightly by anxiety, took Severus and Pomona to one side and they hurried out, wands ready.

Amelia and Remus shared a look and took their own wands out. Leaving Remus to harangue the Head Boy, Amelia took off into the Great Hall and accosted her cousin, pulling her to one side she demanded, "Would you like to tell me why the heads of house are running around, wands drawn?"

Hermione, looking unnerved, quickly responded, "It's the Fat Lady – the Gryffindor portrait? Apparently Sirius Black tried to get into the tower and when she refused to let him in – well he slashed her painting."

"Holy crap!" exclaimed Amelia, unable to stop herself. "Is she alright?"

Hermione shook her head, "She's in a bad way… but Dumbledore thinks it's fixable."

Amelia frowned.

"I'd better go – you be careful," she ordered, and on her cousin's nod hurried towards the Gryffindor tower; floods of students were making their way back to the Great Hall to join their classmates. With a touch of concern she noted that Remus was nowhere to be seen.

At the entrance to the tower she met Poppy, Minerva and Filch; the latter was grumbling far too cheerfully about the night's events for her taste. It didn't escape her notice that her two female colleagues both had their wands out.

"Anyone else hurt?" she asked, tensely.

"No, but if he's still in the castle it's only a matter of time," replied Minerva, an ugly look on her face. "How are you at duelling spells?"

"No idea, but given our earlier discussion it shouldn't be too much of a problem." Minerva gave her a hard look; Poppy raised her eyebrows, distracted, for a moment, from their predicament.

"I should show you some healing spells," she said, with genuine curiosity. "If you can master them then –"

"This is not the time, Poppy," Minerva interrupted, suddenly business-like. "Poppy, you head back to the infirmary, you may be needed. Amelia, you meet Hagrid at the main doors and help complete a sweep of the grounds." She paused, suddenly looking very old indeed, "and please be careful, ladies. There is a murderer loose in our school."

Tersely, the three witches parted ways, each privately aware that until the convict was found their castle was at war.


	8. Rumbled!

The exhaustive searches yielded no murderer, and no clue as to how Black had entered and exited the castle so quickly and without being seen. Even the majority of the portraits hadn't seen him, and those that had couldn't agree on appearance, magical ability (some claimed he'd transformed into a bat and flown out), or even direction. As she patrolled, Amelia got very sick of passing clumps of them, gathered together in one another's frames, bickering.

It was a very weary staff that eventually cleared the students out of the Great Hall the next morning. After the briefest of debriefings the first shift of staff headed to bed, Amelia gratefully among them. As she crawled under her covers, flicking the curtains closed with her wand, she marvelled at the depth of hate that Black must feel for her cousin's young friend to try something so stupid as to break into a castle full of armed, angry people.

0o0o0o0

The build up to the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin match was all that Amelia had expected. Wandering through the halls she was singularly glad that her own school had disposed of houses. It seemed that all she had to do to witness an assault these days was to walk between classes; _not that that's at all unfamiliar for an ex-student of my University_, she mused, peeling the latest quidditch related victim of house rivalry off the wall outside her classroom and sending him on to the Hospital Wing.

Despite the exuberance that greeted the build up to the sporting event, the school was still quieter than usual. Her colleagues were tense and the students talked of little other than the appearance of the infamous Black. Amelia had caught herself on several occasions glancing at the immense bolts on the castle doors.

Heading towards the doors one lunchtime she forced herself to ignore the castle's formidable defences (and any musing on what they could be designed to keep out) and pulled her collar closer around her neck. The weather had turned cold and wet over the last week, leading to students dashing across courtyards to escape the weather. Amelia had followed suit until Pomona had taught her a rain repellent spell – a charm that some of the smugger students had also recently learned.

She was heading for Hagrid's, being nominated as the latest in a string of staff who were attempting to cheer the half-giant up. She saw her cousin pop into existence behind Harry and Ron and secret her timeturner beneath her robes before waving to Amelia. The four of them paused for a moment under the cover of the beautiful (and largely implausible) wooden bridge.

"Just come from Care of Magical Creatures?" she asked, hoping to gauge Hagrid's mood.

They nodded, rather unenthusiastically.

"How is he?" she enquired, her hopes of an easy afternoon fading.

"We're studying flobberworms," said Ron, gloomily.

"They're big maggots," Harry added grimly, on her questioning look.

"I expect Hagrid's playing it safe after Malfoy…" Hermione suggested, giving her cousin something of a hopeless look. Harry and Ron's faces had become thunderous at the mention of their petulant classmate; Amelia decided to leave them before she had to take house points from them. Hermione caught her arm before she passed her.

"We should get together, sometime," the girl said. Amelia agreed: she had missed her cousin.

"Only if you have _time_," she said, winking, before disappearing off towards Hagrid's.

"Let me know when you're free," she called back up the slope. Hermione beamed and nodded before trailing resignedly after her two best friends.

0o0o0o0

Hagrid was, as could be expected, morose; it probably didn't help that Amelia, on being invited for an immense cup of tea, couldn't help but shudder at the flobberworms. She had issues with maggots at the best of times and felt that being appreciative of gigantic specimens was asking a little too much.

In the end, she managed to cheer Hagrid up a little by calmly introducing herself to Buckbeak, who bowed to her complacently and was soon content to lay his beak in her lap and have his feathers stroked as she attempted to break through one of Hagrid's rock cakes.

By the time she was walking back up to the castle it had been dark for some time and she was met (she had decided to take a _slight_ detour around the Lake) by a mildly worried Remus Lupin.

"I saw you from up there," he said, gesturing in the general direction of the Astronomy Tower. "I didn't think you should be wandering about on your own, given the circumstances."

Amelia, though somewhat flattered, raised an eyebrow.

"I just meant that you ought to be more careful," he continued, raising his hands in a placating manner. "I mean, you've not learned too many defensive spells yet – I wouldn't want you to come across Black on your own…" He paused and took stock of her current expression. "… and I couldn't sound more patronising if I tried, could I?"

"Oh, I don't know," Amelia grinned, "I'm sure you could if you tried hard enough."

Remus narrowed his eyes at her, though he couldn't prevent the corners of his mouth from rising slightly.

"Anyway, since you're here, do you fancy a cup of tea?" she offered as they made their way back into the warm, dry interior of the castle. "You can even continue patronising me if you like," she teased, with a shy smile.

"Ah well, when you put it like that…" he grinned.

0o0

Remus settled into a chair near to the fire and pretended not to watch his colleague as she bustled around her living room: shifting piles of books and attempting to find her kettle. She was humming some Muggle tune as she went and he realised that music must contribute to the unusual way that she moved sometimes, as if to a rhythm that no one else could hear.

He was, he knew, increasingly intrigued by this odd young woman. He was determined not to show it however, as he knew where an indulgence in such fascination could lead. _But not for someone like you_, his mind cruelly supplied. No, he couldn't do that to her.

"Here we are," Amelia said, bringing over two steaming mugs of tea and settling onto her sofa, one leg drawn up (apparently so her chin could rest upon it) the other tucked neatly beneath it._ She has very nice legs,_ another part of his subconscious supplied. _Lots of her is very nice, actually… concentrate on the tea, Lupin! The tea!_

"I meant to ask you," she said, after a moment's thought. "Did you catch up with Harry?" Her tone suggested complete nonchalance; Remus immediately suspected that she'd been more worried by Trelawney's prediction than she had initially let on.

"I did, as a matter of fact. He seems to be taking the prediction lightly enough," he sipped his tea, thoughtfully. "It seems unlikely that he would go out of his way to get into trouble… at least for the moment," he conceded.

"He's already faced Voldemort twice, you know; three times if you count when he was a baby," she said, conversationally. "It's not as if he shies away from things… Hermione says it's as if he thinks he has to do it because there's no one else."

"Commendable," said Remus, taking a proffered biscuit. "Though if he knew the truth of his relationship with Black I doubt he'd be quite so reluctant to throw himself into the thick of it again."

"Hmmm," Amelia agreed, through a mouthful of tea. "Harry's parents must have really trusted him. Black, I mean." She studied her friend's face carefully as he stared into the fire; again he seemed a good deal older.

"They really did," he said quietly. "We all did."

Amelia decided not to press him any further and instead glanced up at the clock.

"Crumbs! Look at the time! We'll be late for dinner!" With that she sprung from her seat and shooed the stunned professor out of her living room.

0o0o0o0

Not two days before the match, Slytherin announced that they couldn't play because of their Seeker's damaged arm.

"Whiny git," said Fred Weasley when Amelia mentioned it. She rather had to concur, but she wasn't about to admit this to a student, so she cuffed him lightly around the back of the head.

"Who're you playing instead?" she asked George as his brother pretended to writhe in agony.

"Hufflepuff. They're pretty good this year," he added in a rare attempt at helpfulness.

Amelia nodded and checked the twins' essay plans before moving on to the next group.

0o0o0o0

News of Lupin's illness didn't surprise her in the slightest, it being full moon and all, though she was a little confused as to why Dumbledore was still keeping his condition from her. She was fairly sure that the majority of the staff were aware of it; even Severus had made an effort to conceal a recipe entitled 'Wolfsbane' from her during their potions sessions. Though as he was making a remarkably bad job of it, leaving it just within sight whenever she was around, she had a shrewd suspicion that this courtesy wasn't his idea.

This suspicion was confirmed when Hermione visited her on Friday afternoon, clearly upset.

"Alright missy," Amelia said sternly, after a few minutes of idle and unenthusiastic conversation. "You've barely touched your tea. Spit it out."

Hermione looked at her cousin, appeared to come to a decision and carefully put her teacup down before asking, "Is Professor Lupin alright? He wasn't in class today."

"He's not been feeling himself, lately," Amelia responded, in what she hoped was the party line. "Why? You've not got a crush on him have you?" she teased.

Hermione, always the picture of maturity, made a face: "He's nice and all, but he's, well, _old_."

"Oh, _thanks_ Hermione, you know he's not that much older than me."

"You know what I mean!" Hermione exclaimed, smacking her cousin across the shoulder.

"Well, what's up then?"

"Professor Snape covered for him in Defence Against the Dark Arts today," she responded carefully. "He spent the whole lesson rubbishing Professor Lupin's work, started us off on werewolves, which we shouldn't be covering until May, _and_ set us a two scroll essay on their identification and extermination."

Amelia was shocked. How could Severus try to reveal Remus's secret like that? And so obviously too! Remus was such a kind-hearted man, despite his… condition (though a small part of her admitted bias here). Perhaps this world frowned upon the existence of werewolves to a greater extent than she'd previously imagined.

She made a mental note to go and shout at Severus at her earliest convenience.

"Anything else?" she asked, more sharply than she'd intended.

Hermione looked at her knees and said, in a small voice, "He shouted at me for answering a question."

"Oh did he now," Amelia snarled. Hermione, who had failed to note her cousin's tone of voice, continued.

"Then he gave Ron a detention for sticking up for me."

"Bastard," Amelia said, with feeling, amending her mental note to: _must castrate Severus Snape_.

She'd just about managed to cheer Hermione up when her cousin left, though it took a while for her anger to dissipate. _How dare he?_

When she got her hands on him, Snape wouldn't know what had hit him. _Still¸ _she thought, seeing the time,_ that can wait until morning._

0o0o0o0

By evening, Remus was curled up beneath his desk, mentally planning his next few assignments and generally feeling sorry for himself. Although he was very grateful to Snape for brewing his Wolfsbane potion, he couldn't help thinking that he'd made it taste bad on purpose. _That's not the only reason he's irritating you, now is it?_ Apparently the more annoying parts of his brain had decided to join in with the pity-party.

He shivered. The day had been so busy – and the evening come on so quickly – that the moon had almost taken him by surprise. He'd been so caught up in his work, thoughts about Sirius, Harry and (increasingly) Amelia, that he'd neglected to light his fire.

His treacherous mind turned back to his old school friends. It was at these times that he missed the boys most, his memory dwelling on moonlit adventures into the Forbidden Forest and grounds, along with more human times in the Hogsmeade or the Library with Lily.

He laid his head on his paws and gave a great sigh which, unfortunately for him, stirred up a vast cloud of dust, making him cough and splutter. Making a mental note to ask the House Elves to clean his office more thoroughly, he made a move towards the secret passage that led to his rooms, intending to at least sleep in his own bed.

As he padded across the icy stone floor, he heard a quiet but utterly frightening noise; glancing over his shoulder he saw the door handle at the other end of the room begin to turn. Knowing that those of his colleagues that were aware of his condition would allow him his privacy on these occasions, he made a dash back to the relative safety of his desk. Hoping fervently that he wasn't about to be discovered by one of his own students, he listened to the room beyond the wood.

He heard the door open and close again a few seconds later; he hunkered down – why hadn't they knocked? The intruding footsteps – barefoot, he guessed – came slowly closer, and the drumming sound of his heartbeat threatened to drown out all other noise. The feet stopped just before the desk. Opening his eyes, he could see them, toes tapping as if their owner were coming to a decision; _if this turns out to be a student_, he thought, _they'll catch merry hell in the morning for sneaking about their teacher's office in the dead of night._

After a moment the feet retreated back a few paces, giving him false hope, before apparently seating themselves on the chair he was keeping by the door. He sniffed the air experimentally, hoping to discern some trace of his enemy… he smelled beeswax, and herbs… and roses… and linen? Momentarily flummoxed, he mentally reviewed his students and colleagues and tried to imagine those scents as belonging to them. There were a few of the older students that he considered clean enough to be a possibility, but only one staff member whose scent he didn't already know – who he had been careful not to get close enough to for him to pick up her scent in human form…

An unpleasant knot began to form in his stomach as he became increasingly convinced of the intruder's identity. They had both been silent for some time, one cowering beneath his own desk, the other waiting patiently for him to emerge, before Amelia had had enough.

"You aren't going to stay under there all night, are you?" she asked, stretching slightly. "Only it's pretty bloody cold in here."

She waited for a few moments, her question greeted with nothing but silence.

"I could come over there, I guess," she continued to the world at large.

This time, she heard the creature under the desk stir in panic – _what did she think she was doing?_ He thought, desperately trying to see a way out of this impossible situation. He gave up.

Slowly and miserably, Professor Lupin slunk out from behind his desk, clearly of the opinion that while being discovered was marginally better if it was on his own terms, he was still perfectly entitled not to be happy about it.

Amelia took one look at her friend and burst out laughing. Surprised and mildly affronted, Remus paused, glancing back to his hiding place as if reconsidering it… _perhaps she'll forget I was here and go away…_

Sadly, he was out of luck. Trying to recover some self-control, Amelia attempted to mollify him.

"I'm sorry, I've j-just ne-never seen a w-wolf sulk before."

Remus subjected her to a baleful stare as she lapsed once more into gales of laughter.

Whatever reaction he'd been expecting, it hadn't been this; beginning to hope that she didn't view him with abject disgust, he padded a little closer to her.

Calming down a little more she assessed his new appearance, head to one side, then:

"You realise I rumbled you straight away?"

He looked at her in a puzzled fashion, so she continued, "I'm a reader… I'd thought Dumbledore might tell people, but he seems to like to keep people's… quirks… close to his chest."

Remus stood and stared at her for a while, as her statement settled in. _A reader? No wonder she picks things up quickly_, he thought.

Amelia was watching him from her perch.

"I realise that you're not used to people barging in and laughing at you…"

Remus snorted.

"… ok, true, you know the Weasley twins, but I couldn't help thinking that you might want some company." She glanced down at him and noticed that his tail was beginning to wag; emboldened, she carried on, "And now I notice that you haven't got the fire lit and it's bloody freezing in here. Well, the fires _are_ lit in my rooms, and I have a sleeping bag, so…" aware that she was babbling, she blushed. _Why_ did this feel so awkward? She was only helping out a friend, wasn't she?

For his part, Remus was torn between the very welcome suggestion of a warm bed and good company and, once more, the shame of his condition and the possibility of losing her as a friend. As he looked at her and noticed her blush creep down her cheeks and neck and under her shirt, he was suddenly very aware that Amelia was wearing her pyjamas… they were simple; she had on long black cotton bottoms and 'class of '98' t-shirt. Not particularly revealing, but it _was_ cold in the room and his mind had no trouble whatsoever in filling in the blanks. He swallowed, hard.

Amelia, thinking that he was considering bolting, tried again.

"I can't promise to be particularly good company, but at least it'll be warm…" her breath, he noticed, formed steam in front of her face.

That decided it really, Remus concluded, moving towards her and nodding his head.

"Great," she said, smiling.

As they walked together in amiable silence in the gloom of the sleeping school, acknowledging the occasional portrait, Remus was engaged in a silent war with himself.

_So…_ that part of himself that he was really beginning to hate, began: _you're walking with a scantily clad girl towards her room…_

_She's not scantily clad,_ he said to himself, firmly, _she's not that much younger than me, and we're heading for her _living room_, not her bedroom_. _And we're just friends…_

He risked a sideways glance at her; her rather shapely legs were swishing past him and he could see the bare flesh of her ankles. Dropping back slightly as she waved cheerily to a particularly jovial portrait his gaze came to rest, not entirely against his will, on her bottom. It was slightly plump, he noticed, suddenly fascinated, and was bobbing up and down invitingly as she walked. The Voice, which was beginning to sound a little like Severus Snape said, accusingly, _Just friends?_

_Oh gods…_ he thought, _I'm being hypnotised by this woman's bottom…_

It was with a great force of will that he managed to drive his thoughts away from Amelia's bottom (and what it would feel like to become better acquainted with that part of her anatomy). Frantically, he ran through the dullest things he could bring to mind.

_Frogspawn… Sybill Trelawney… teapots… Professor Binns… snooker… inkpot, quill, parchment, desk… my desk… my desk with Amelia on it… NO!_

_Er- Er- tax forms! Yes, tax… queuing at the Ministry… that creepy bust of Minister Mayfleet… bust… Amelia's bust… Amelia, with her bust, on my desk… ARGH!_

_Oh Gods…_

Amelia continued to saunter forward, oblivious to the turmoil this was causing within her lupine companion. At one point, much to Remus's relief, Argus Filch appeared quite suddenly from a dark doorway, evidently hoping to catch wandering students unawares; there was nothing quite like the sight of Filch to drag a man's thoughts away from his fantasies… if only to prevent the greasy little man from intruding.

Once Amelia had recovered herself (and Remus had resisted the urge to eat Mrs Norris) they continued on their way, both excruciatingly aware that the caretaker's leering gaze was following them along the corridor. Remus shuddered; his unfaithful mind had got as far as '_Argus Filch, on my desk_' and had shut down in self defence.

0o0

Her rooms, Remus decided, were well worth the chilly if rather fraught walk. The stones felt warm beneath his feet as he went to investigate one of her many bookcases, briefly allowing his animal desire to explore to drive his human form forward.

Amelia smiled at him as she fetched her sleeping bag and set it out; he seemed a little more relaxed now. She'd hoped that her forward manner wouldn't scare him away and her gamble had paid off; she didn't want to lose this friend. Despite the warmth of their colleagues, she sensed that Remus felt equally out of place at times.

"I've got a couple of bottles of Butterbeer around somewhere if you want some."

Remus gave her a Look.

"I also have a bowl, smartarse."

Smiling inside and marvelling at how little this extraordinary witch was phased by the weird situation they'd found themselves in, he gave her a nod and padded over to investigate the sleeping bag while she busied herself with the cupboards.

He gave the sleeping bag an experimental sniff. It smelled of soap and grass and, overwhelmingly, of Amelia; he breathed in deeply before telling the part of his mind that had been scared away by the appearance of Filch to bugger off. He thought that if he concentrated he could trace the different trips and outings the sleeping bag had been taken on and began to do so before realising that this could be construed as snooping. Perhaps Amelia would tell him about them, if he asked when he was human again. Amelia returned with their drinks then, and folded herself up into the windowseat, which had sprouted sporadic cushions since the last time he'd seen it.

They settled into a comfortable rhythm of drinking their butterbeer, Amelia periodically chortling at something or other in her book and reading it out to him if he looked interested. This lasted for roughly half an hour before she gave up and began to read aloud. Remus was warmed by the butterbeer and allowed his mind to disappear into the lilt Amelia's voice telling her fantastic tale, he found it very easy indeed to forget the events of the previous few days.


	9. Hufflepuff Thunder

The next morning Amelia woke early and sleepily opened her curtains to the beginnings of an impressive thunderstorm; she was immediately and profoundly thankful that the staff weren't required to play. Glancing into her living room she noticed that Remus had already slunk off to transform (and presumably be checked over by Poppy) so she showered and decided to get ready for the match.

She dug out her waterproofs, left over from a career in muddy trenches, slipped them over her jeans and concealed them beneath her robes. If she was required to watch the match she was at least going to come home dry. She ran into Severus on her way down to the Great Hall; he seemed to be returning from the Library and, as there was no one around, he greeted her cheerfully.

Faced with her task so early in the morning, she decided that the direct approach was the best way forward.

"You were unnecessarily rude to my cousin," she growled. Snape's features fell, then rearranged themselves into a sneer.

"She repeatedly spoke out of turn."

"You asked a question, she answered it."

"I did not ask her to speak."

"You didn't want anyone to answer so you could continue rubbishing Lupin!" she accused. Amelia was really beginning to lose her temper now: her face was flushing and her voice rising. Fearing the appearance of an audience, Snape took her to one side.

"You have no idea what goes on in my lessons, _Miss_ Brown, and you have no right to inte-" he began, heatedly.

"You have no right to treat Gryffindor students with contempt and afford preferential treatment to those of your own house!" she snapped, pulling away from him slightly. "Nor do you have the right to bully _any_ student. The fact that no one else's guardian has bothered to shout at you before now does not negate my complaint, and nor does it excuse your behaviour!"

Severus's voice was beginning to crack with anger; "Do you wish to make a formal complaint?" he spat.

"No," Amelia retorted. "I would prefer it if you would stop bullying people. As professional colleagues I'd hoped that we could resolve this matter on our own, though if you feel that this isn't possible I'd be happy to discuss this with Minerva and Albus."

They stood, eyes flashing, inches apart for a few seconds*.

Amelia gave a deep sigh.

"I'm sorry, _Mr_ Snape, I thought that we could be friends, but anyone who needs to bully those in his care in order to feel valid, and most particularly finds it enjoyable to upset my cousin – whose word I can assure you I am more than happy to take over yours – is not someone I intend to spend any time with at all. Thank you for your help with my potions work, I don't think I shall require any further tuition from you!"

She made to leave, but turned back and pointed an angry finger at her now apoplectic colleague.

"And your blatant attempt to reveal Professor Lupin's condition to the entire third year was really bloody low. I don't know your history, because clearly there must be some, but having spent time with the both of you I cannot imagine anything that might persuade someone who is normally so sensible to so cruelly attack such a kind and intelligent man. I hope that if your ploy succeeds, you realise just what it is that you have done to him!" And with that, Amelia stormed off towards breakfast, leaving a dumbfounded Snape seething in her wake.

Still fuming as she crossed the Great Hall, she was surprised to find Harry already at the Gryffindor table, attempting to eat breakfast.

Taking a deep breath (and checking there was no one else around), she approached him.

"Nervous?" she asked as he glanced up at her. He grimaced.

"Well, I know I'm not supposed to show bias, but good luck." He nodded, looking like he might be sick.

"And you can tell Mr Weasley that I'll be taking his unfair detention to Professor McGonagall."

"Thanks Professor!" said Harry, surprised. "Was Hermione alright last night – we were a bit worried…"

Amelia smiled at him, glad that her cousin had such good friends. "She was fine. She stayed up at mine until pretty late." Harry gave her a warm smile before turning to the first of his team-mates to traipse down the stairs.

0o0o0o0

Having intended to watch the match with Snape, Amelia instead headed out with Poppy Pomfrey, who noticed her young friend's mood and tried to cheer her up. By the time they'd reached the pitch and had begun to ascend the stairs to the faculty tower, Amelia was feeling a good deal happier.

She was increasingly grateful to her concealed waterproofs as she watched the stands gradually fill with increasingly bedraggled spectators. Amelia's school, while encouraging students to compete in the football / rugby / hockey / netball tradition, had never successfully instilled in her anything resembling a desire to play, nor anything akin to school pride. She was therefore astonished to catch sight of her cousin and her friends, all wearing Gryffindor colours, faces painted in red and gold, file into the stands. Watching them for a few moments she noticed that they were all conspicuously dry; she grinned proudly as she saw the raindrops forming a water-free dome around them, Hermione at its centre.

The wind around the tower was roaring now and as she glanced towards the end of the pitch the goalposts were rattling. She watched as the team captains shook hands and the players, already soaked to their skins, took to their brooms.

Hermione had once described the game to her as 'like rugby, but airborne,' but the sheer violence of the match still surprised her. Lupin had been right to suggest that quidditch might rival rugby in the 'Possibility of Receiving Most Unpleasant Injury' stakes.

As the weather worsened, Amelia lost track of most of the action; around two hours in Madame Hooch called for a timeout and she saw her cousin dart out to meet the team, then dart back to her place between Ron and Neville in the stands. She had the distinct look of someone who was Up to Something; Harry rose back into the storm looking more hopeful.

The play continued for another half an hour as the lightening crackled and the rain swirled around the tiny players; she wasn't sure how, but Gryffindor appeared to be winning.

As she watched a Hufflepuff player streak past, her breath caught in her throat. She felt her skin prickle and her blood turn cold. Around her an eerie silence was washing over the crowd. In front of her, Dumbledore stood up and leaned over the rail, craning to see the pitch. Across the grounds, dark shapes were moving slickly and with purpose – Amelia realised that she could taste blood as she watched, hopeless, while the hordes of Dementors swarmed across the quidditch pitch and funnelled upwards towards the struggling players. As one, the staff ran down the stairs and onto the pitch to help the airborne students to the ground and force the Dementors out of the grounds.

They'd got most of the flying teenagers safely back to earth when Amelia felt Hermione's throat tighten, somewhere in the stands; she felt, rather than heard her scream. Her heart plummeted as she looked up and saw that Harry was falling, tumbling and turning with the wind. Beside her, Dumbledore raised his wand and slowed the boy's progress.

0o0o0o0

After checking on Harry that evening Amelia stole down to the kitchens, preferring to eat in her rooms after such a stressful day. On her way back to her tower she passed Professor McGonagall, whose lips were still white with anger from earlier in the day.

"I don't think I've ever seen anyone that angry before," said Amelia as they ascended the main staircase.

"Albus? Yes, well, if they will attack the students…"

"I imagine they're unlikely to try again?" she asked, hopefully.

"With any luck," replied the deputy head. "Not joining us for dinner this evening, my dear?"

Amelia shook her head, "My immediate plans include a hot bath and a good book, sorry."

"That's all right, it's been rather a long day… a hot bath and a good book sounds like an excellent end to it."

As she continued up the stairs to her rooms, Amelia decided that she hadn't been entirely truthful, but wasn't all that worried; everyone deserved a little privacy from time to time.

0o0

She couldn't help glancing at the dark shapes circling the grounds that evening, as she dealt with her waterproofs and had her bath, the heat of the water relaxing some of the tension she'd felt since the Dementors had converged.

Sleepily, she sat down to dinner in front of the fireplace, being careful to leave the door slightly ajar, and continued to read for a time. At around ten o'clock her door creaked, and she heard paws pad across the floor behind her towards the sleeping bag in the corner, left out since the previous evening. The wolf looked up at her and nodded before settling down.

After a while Amelia put down her book, stretched and got up to close the door. Remus, who had been dozing peacefully, woke with a start at the click of the door and, as she collected some butterbeer and a bowl he allowed himself to watch her again.

She seemed agitated this evening, uncomfortable; his heart fell. Desperately, he hoped that she hadn't come to her senses and decided that he was, in fact, disgusting. He padded towards her uncertainly as she settled back in her chair and put down a bowl of butterbeer for him.

She glanced at him then and said, "Rough day," by way of an explanation. Gently, and as much to his own surprise as to hers, he nudged her hand with his snout in a comforting gesture.

She filled him in on the events of the day, absently stroking his head as she did, and although he dearly wanted to check on Harry in the Hospital Wing he stayed put, preferring to stay warm and fuzzy and to continue being stroked.

Finishing her story, Amelia trailed off to stare into the fire, thinking of the awful things the Dementors brought to mind.

"If only I could stop seeing the rubble…" she said, mostly to herself.

Remus, who was utterly baffled by this last statement couldn't have questioned her if he'd wanted to; she looked so small and tired that all he wanted to do was put an arm around her and tell her that everything would be alright. Given the lack of arms, he settled for jumping up beside her on the sofa and offering a comforting paw. Amelia was so sleepy that this barely registered, but she wriggled around to get more comfortable, giving him more room purely by chance.

Eventually, he too drifted off and thus they slept, curled into the same seat; the wolf's head resting in Amelia's lap.

0o0o0o0

After the mutual mild embarrassment experienced when waking up in the same room as someone that you sort of fancy (even if one of you is currently a wolf), Remus returned to his office in order to await his transformation back to humanity. Having become a man once more, and had a hot shower, he returned to his office, glowering at the pile of marking that had built up on his desk in his absence.

The sounds of the school waking up increased as he worked, and he was about two-thirds of the way through the stack when he looked up to hear a familiar voice say,

"You look like shit."

Amelia was leaning against his doorframe, book under one arm, mug in hand. He could see students milling about in the corridor outside and guessed that classes were about to start. He looked at her stood there, the very picture of irreverence, and thought that he'd never seen anything so alluring in his life. He decided to move the conversation forward as thoughts of exactly what he'd like to do with her in his office threatened to overtake his brain.

"I've looked worse, believe me," he said, unable to stop himself smiling back up at her as she chuckled and moved off along the corridor.

_It's official mate,_ said a voice that reminded him strongly of his old friend Prongs, _you're doomed._

As the door closed behind her, he scrubbed his face with his hands and tried to concentrate.

0o0

Once his pile of marking was done with and the Grindylow in the corner (_squelch!_) had been replaced by a thin, wispy creature with an unpleasant expression, Remus headed down to his first class of the day. Passing by the first floor corridor he paused to take in a snippet of an argument and was seized by reverie; surely he was seventeen again and it had been an enraged Lily Evans, not Amelia, who was shouting at a sixth-year to "Take that first-year off the ceiling you stuck up little prat!".

He was momentarily nonplussed when, the unfortunate first-year having been released from his predicament, the aforementioned sixth-year – now pinned to the far wall by a thin beam of light streaming from Amelia's wand – was Duncan Crowe and not James Potter.

_Some things never change_, he smiled to himself as he made his way to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, thinking that Lily and James would have approved of this young woman. His smile faded a little as Harry and his friends entered the classroom noisily and he reflected on the unfairness of it all.

Before he could get started, his class burst out at once into an explosion of complaints about Snape's behaviour while he had been ill.

"It's not fair, he was only filling in, why should he set us homework?"

"We don't know anything about werewolves –"

" – two rolls of parchment!"

"Did you tell Professor Snape we haven't covered them yet?" he asked, frowning slightly; Severus seemed to be trying to set him up.

The babble broke out again.

"Yes, but he said we were really behind –"

" – he wouldn't listen –"

" – _two rolls of parchment!_ –"

He smiled at the look of indignation on every face; his class seemed to be behind him at the very least, and he could be thankful that no one would have had time to start their research.

"Don't worry. I'll speak to Professor Snape. You don't have to do the essay."

"Oh _no_," said Hermione, looking very disappointed. "I've already finished it!"

Lupin felt his heart drop into his stomach – what if she knew?

Deciding not to dwell too much on this new and unsettling possibility, and considering it unlikely that if Hermione had figured him out (and given her cousin he wouldn't put it past her) she would then spread it about the school, he got on with the lesson.

When the bell rang, everyone gathered up their things and headed for the door, but Lupin called out to Harry as he made to leave. The boy doubled back and watched him covering the Hinkypunk's box with a cloth. Feeling very much like he was speaking to James, he began,

"I heard about the match," he said, turning back to his desk and starting to pile books into his briefcase, "and I'm sorry about your broomstick. Is there any chance of fixing it?"

"No," said Harry. "The tree smashed it to bits."

Lupin sighed; somehow, he felt that this was all his fault.

"They planted the Whomping Willow the same year that I arrived at Hogwarts. People used a play a game, trying to get near enough to touch the trunk. In the end, a boy called Davey Gudgeon nearly lost an eye, and we were forbidden to go near it. No broomstick would stand a chance."

"Did you hear about the Dementors, too?" said Harry. It sounded as if he was none too proud of his reaction to the creatures.

"Yes, I did. I don't think any of us have ever seen Professor Dumbledore that angry. They have been growing restless for some time… furious at his refusal to let them inside the grounds… I suppose they were the reason you fell?"

"Yes," said Harry. The boy paused, apparently struggling with himself, before,

"_Why_? Why do they affect me like that? Am I just –"

"It has nothing to do with weakness," he said sharply, guessing where this train of thought must have sprung from. "The Dementors affect you worse than the others because there are horrors in your past that the others don't have."

A ray of wintry sunlight fell across the classroom, illuminating Harry's green eyes and producing the uncomfortable feeling that he was staring back into his past.

"Dementors are among the foulest creatures that walk the earth. They infest the darkest, filthiest places, they glory in decay and despair, they drain peace, hope and happiness out of the air around them. Even muggles feel their presence, though they can't see them. Get too near a Dementor and every good feeling, every happy memory, will be sucked out of you. If it can, the Dementor will feed on you long enough to reduce you to something like itself – soulless and evil. You'll be left with nothing but the worst experiences of your life. And the worst that has happened to _you_ Harry, is enough to make anyone fall off their broom. You have nothing to feel ashamed of."

"When they get near me –" Harry stared at Lupin's desk, his throat tight, "I can hear Voldemort murdering my mum."

Almost overcome with despair, Lupin made to comfort Harry, as he had comforted his parents through the trials and tribulations of high school and later, the heavy losses of war, but found that he could not. Had the world been different, Harry would have grown up knowing him as an Uncle and it wouldn't have been weird… it also wouldn't have been necessary. He stayed silent.

"Why did they have to come to the match?" said Harry, bitterly.

"They're getting hungry," said Lupin coolly, shutting his briefcase with a snap. "Dumbledore won't let them into the school, so their supply of human prey has dried up… I don't think they could resist the large crowd around the quidditch pitch. All that excitement… emotions running high… it was their idea of the feast."

"Azkaban must be terrible," Harry muttered. Lupin nodded grimly.

"The fortress is set on a tiny island, way out to sea, but they don't need walls and water to keep the prisoners in, not when they're all trapped inside their own heads, incapable of a single cheerful thought. Most of them go mad within weeks."

"But Sirius Black escaped from them," Harry said slowly. "He got away…"

Lupin's briefcase slipped from the desk; he had to stoop quickly to catch it.

He disliked thinking of Sirius, particularly as a pale and maddened prisoner of the Dementors. They had been as close as brothers until the last few weeks of the war, when he'd began to feel a distance between them… but then, that Sirius was dead and gone, along with James, Lily, Peter, Alice, Frank and all the others that had fallen in those last, trying days. But Harry was waiting for an answer.

"Yes," he said, straightening up. "Black must have found a way to fight them. I wouldn't have believed it possible… Dementors are supposed to drain a wizard of his powers if he is left with them too long – "

"_You_ made that Dementor on the train back off," said Harry suddenly.

"There are – certain defences one can use," said Lupin. "But there was only one Dementor on the train. The more there are, the more difficult it becomes to resist."

"What defences?" said Harry at once. "Can you teach me?"

"I don't pretend to be an expert at fighting Dementors, Harry – quite the contrary…"

"But if the Dementors come to another quidditch match, I need to be able to fight them –"

Lupin looked into Harry's determined face and suddenly he could see his old friends staring back out of the boy's young face. He owed it to them, especially to Lily, to keep Harry safe. He was the only one of them left who could.

"Well… all right. I'll try and help. But it'll have to wait until next term, I'm afraid. I have a lot to do before the holidays. I chose a very inconvenient time to fall ill."

Lost in his thoughts, Lupin found himself wandering towards his rooms when Peeves tripped him over, probably getting him back for the chewing gum incident. Too tired to deal with the poltergeist (who was zooming away, loudly singing abuse) he bent to gather his books.

Lupin sighed as he straightened up, there was another reminder of his past, though not a friendly one.

"Severus, could I have a word?"

The sour-faced head of Slytherin glowered at him, but gestured his colleague into an empty classroom nonetheless.

"My students tell me that you changed their work and set them homework," he began, wishing that he were elsewhere and not having to have this ridiculous conversation.

"It seemed to me that they were woefully behind in their education," the other man sneered, his lip curling in distaste.

Lupin sighed, he really wasn't in the mood for this.

"Look, Severus, just because it's not the way that you'd do it doesn't mean that it's the wrong way to do it. And I shall take your early introduction of that particular topic as an innocent slip."

"I can't imagine what you mean, Lupin," said Snape, coldly. But his heart didn't appear to be in it.

Truth be told, Amelia's reaction to the rearrangement of classes had unnerved him somewhat; he had underestimated her attachment to her cousin. He wasn't sure how comfortable he was about losing such a promising friend and was privately as relieved as Lupin to be leaving the classroom ten minutes later, business concluded.

0o0o0o0

It had been nearly a week since Remus had realised just how completely rumbled he had been, and he'd thanked Amelia profusely, then blushed furiously as she'd shook her head, kissed him lightly on the cheek and wandered off laughing.

As he worked through his lessons and walked the halls of his alma mater he realised, with a pang, that he was looking forward to his transformations for the first time in twelve years; it had been a long time since that last time his three friends had arrived at his flat, sleeping bags tucked under their arms.

His thoughts seemed to drift endlessly between his enigmatic new friend and the men that he had once called brothers.

There had been a time when he could not, _would_ not believe that Sirius had betrayed and murdered their small but defiant family. His mind still strayed back to the times when they'd sat on the grassy banks of the lake on a hot summer's day, Lupin reading, quietly observing his friends' antics. James would be plotting future pranks with Sirius, periodically glancing over to the group of girls in which Lily Evans was sat, and being smacked on the head by his friend if his attention wandered for too long or if he started drooling.

Peter would be laughing along with them, hanging on his friends' every word. They might sneak into the kitchens in the evening, little Peter carrying so much that he could barely walk, James showing off by levitating a pudding directly behind Filch so that it spilled all over him and Sirius and Remus laughing so hard their stomachs hurt, holding on to each other to stay upright.

And then there was Lily… so kind and thoughtful, always there for people when they needed it. He remembered the day that he'd chosen to tell her his secret. It was spring and the scent of mayflowers was wafting through the grounds; he'd been so afraid that she'd simply walk away and never speak to him again, but he needn't have worried. She'd listened calmly to his stuttered explanations and had given him the tightest hug he'd ever received (his teenage mind had of course relived this moment many times), told him that she'd figured him out in second year and returned to the project that the two of them had been working on for Professor Slughorn.

His friends… his best friends…

He shook his head; it seemed so long ago now, but the memories still seemed to find yet new ways to hurt him. He glanced out through the rain streaked glass of the classroom window at their 'spot' on the shores of the lake; he could have sworn that, just for a second, he had glimpsed four boys laughing together in the long faded sunshine.

He turned, sighing, as the door opened and his fourth-years filed in; he got on with his day.

0o0o0o0

*I am aware, Bones, that at this point you would like them to snog, so here it is, just for you:

They stood, eyes flashing, inches apart for a few seconds, before Severus, having entirely run out of things to shout at her, simply grabbed her, crushing his lips against hers. He seemed just as surprised as she did, even more so when she didn't pull away, instead deepening the kiss. His hands entangled themselves in her hair and she pulled him closer, mewling into his mouth.

0o0

I think we should leave them there, before they decide they need to relocate to a handy broom closet… honestly, what will Lupin say. Oy! *throws ball of screwed up paper at her characters* I'm working here, keep it down. You're in a _school_ for gods' sake!


	10. Butterbeer and Solace

The last few weeks before Christmas were busy, but pleasant for Amelia. The world was snowier here than at home and she was often to be found sat in the courtyard, contentedly watching the world around her whiten and the students take full advantage of the opportunity to throw stuff at one another.

The week before the final Hogsmeade visit before Christmas, her fifth-years held an impromptu concert as part of their Muggle Studies assessment. Fred and George, as Amelia had expected, had very much been up to something, and their composition, 'An Epic Christmas Tale, part 1'* had many staff and students rolling around in mirth. For most of the following week Filius could be heard humming it, and the rumour among the staff was that he'd cornered the pair of them and forced them to write it down for him.

The Friday before the Hogsmeade visit, Amelia once again roped Argus into helping her show a film, this time making it a double feature: The Nightmare Before Christmas and, for the older students and staff 'Love Actually'. Hermione accused her of soppiness, but still complained at having to miss the second film.

She and Lupin had sat together, as they often did (which also hadn't escaped Hermione's notice), and she'd noticed Severus sitting alone a few seats away. She felt a pang of sympathy for him before reminding herself that he was now The Enemy, and she later allowed herself a quiet snigger when she overhead Sybill comparing herself and Severus to one of the couples in the film.

Inside the castle, there was a buzz of Christmas in the air. Filius, who was legendary for his enjoyment of the holiday, had already decorated his classroom with shimmering lights that turned out to be real, fluttering fairies. Amelia spent a good few hours trying to figure out how he'd managed to coerce them into staying put for so long… Remus, for his part, advised her to give them a wide berth; he'd met fairies before. The students, meanwhile, were all happily discussing their plans for the holidays.

Amelia, enjoying herself, was engaged in a great deal of surreptitious knitting. She was working on a pair of fingerless gloves for Pomona when Remus nonchalantly enquired after her festive plans.

"Oh I suppose I'll stay here," she'd replied, deftly working her DPNs; it seemed to Remus that she was knitting on a small, angry hedgehog. "Hermione wants to stay and use the library, so I'll keep her company," she continued. "You?"

"Me? Oh, I'm staying," he said, colouring slightly and glad that Amelia had been concentrating on her knitting and had missed the brief expression of joy that had escaped across his features. "There's a warm bed, a library and hot meals here, what more could I want?" he joked, hoping that she couldn't tell how lucky that made him.

Before she could respond they were interrupted by a flutter of wings and a tawny owl dropped a letter into Amelia's knitting.

"Arse!" she swore, clearly unimpressed.

Remus helped her untangle herself (and the rather disgruntled owl) and watched as she packed her things.

"Aren't you going to open it?" he asked, curious; so far he'd not seen his friend receive much in the way of post, except in the form of notes from Hermione. He was intrigued at the life outside the castle that this letter hinted at.

"Nah, we'll be late. Besides, you were going to give me that tour." She slung her bag over one shoulder, stuffed the mysterious envelope into her pocket and took Lupin's arm. Together (and each privately quite happily) they set off for Hogsmeade.

0o0o0o0

The pair of them had a cheerful day, enjoying butterbeer and drams of spiced whiskey, reminiscing about their schooldays and generally avoiding the chattering hordes of students roaming around the village. The memories of this place were painful for Remus, but sharing them with Amelia was not only cathartic but even enjoyable. His good humour, and the new-found warmth that his friend had brought out in him, ebbed a little every time they caught sight of each new 'Wanted' poster they passed. Noticing this, Amelia took it upon herself to distract him and dragged him off on a ramble about the grounds, far from his old friend's screaming face.

After a long walk and a pleasant afternoon they headed back up to the castle to change into warmer clothes before dinner.

As they paused to let a few snow-fevered first years out of the clock tower, the wind brushed Amelia's hair across her face and she laughed. In that moment, with Amelia smiling down at him, eyes sparkling, skin pinked from the cold, he came to a sudden, glorious and terrifying realisation: he was falling for her, honestly and completely. There wasn't anywhere in the world that he'd rather be than where he was now, right beside Amelia with her laughing and joking and dragging him back out of his gloom. This revelation came as something of a shock to the usually controlled professor, and it wasn't until he had reached his rooms and changed that he actually began to think about this new turn of events. He caught his own eyes in the bathroom mirror; what was he _thinking_?

In the cold and wintry light of his rooms, the hope that this vibrant young woman could ever want to be with _him_ seemed to vanish, fading along with the light. He surveyed himself sadly: scars criss-crossing his torso, the shadows still under his eyes from his last transformation, early silver flecks in his once brown hair. What could he offer a woman like Amelia? She was young and beautiful and smart and kind, while he was… _decrepit_. He sighed.

He'd never been a 'looker', even when he was younger, being almost invisible next to his two handsome best friends. He hadn't even been talkative, or funny, or roguish, or any of those other intangible qualities that appeared to enthral the fairer sex. He knew that he couldn't offer her protection either, having barely a penny to his name; he'd faced years of being turned away from his work every time a new employer had discovered his 'condition'. Years of just barely scraping by had left their mark. Frustrated, he ran a hand through his hair.

He'd no home to invite her into since his last landlord had turfed him out, and no possessions save his tattered clothes, worn books and battered suitcase. That was how Dumbledore had found him, living out of the same case and trying to scrape a living as a freelance writer in the darkest corner of a scummy city. He'd been so ashamed that the Headmaster had seen him like that, a former prefect living in the squalor of a cheap hotel room, but it hadn't seemed to bother Dumbledore; he'd taken the offer of work without a second thought, of course, and look where that had gotten him…

_As if _she_ would want to live with you_, supplied his mind, accusingly.

Suddenly exhausted, he sat on the sofa before the unlit fire in his living room and mourned his life. So it was that half an hour later, having become curious as to the whereabouts of her friend, Amelia found him still sat in the dark, sulking.

"What's up?" she asked, letting the warm glow of candlelight filter through from the brightly lit corridor.

"It's nothing," he said, not wanting her to see him wallow. "No really, I'm just tired," he added on her snort of disbelief.

"Well if that's it…"

"Yeah, it is," he responded, possibly with more force than he'd intended.

She scrutinized him for a long moment before turning and heading for the door; finding that he wasn't following her she moved back towards him and extended her hand.

"Oh, come on misery guts, or we'll miss dinner."

Sighing, he stood and took her hand, then her arm as she gasped and stumbled. In that moment she had felt the depths of his sorrow, though she was unable to sense its cause. Concern crossed his lupine** features as she stared, open mouthed, at the breadth of her friend's despair.

"Amelia, wha-"

In one movement she wrapped her arms around him and held him in a tight hug; surprised, he held her back, not knowing the cause of her sudden closeness nor wanting it to cease. They stayed that way for some minutes, Lupin's head resting on hers, listening to one another's hearts beating. When they at last broke apart she kept a hold of his hand, and was about to ask what on earth it was that had made him so sad when Pomona burst into the room.

"Well come on you two!" clearly already one sherry down, the older witch assessed the situation with remarkable clarity. "Unless I'm interrupting anything?" she suggested, waggling her eyebrows in a truly disturbing and far too accurate manner.

Remus, already flustered by his friend's behaviour, coloured up to his eyebrows, which promptly disappeared into his fringe.

Amelia, still able to feel the knot in Remus's stomach, decided to rescue the situation.

"Oh, come off it Pomona, we're not Sybill and Severus!"

Pomona was rather enjoying her former student's discomfort, but she gracefully decided not to prolong it and ushered the two of them out of the gloom and into the cheery light of the corridor.

0o0o0o0

The feast was every bit as delicious as it always was and as the majority of the students and staff were heading home for Christmas Amelia spent most of her evening chatting to her colleagues. She kept an eye on Remus though, when the opportunity arose; she'd only come across the depth of despair she'd felt from him once before, among the rubble and dust of her uncle's former home. Worryingly, when she cast her gaze across the Gryffindor table her cousin and her two friends were missing. Choosing to brush this off for the time being she instead caught up with Remus as pudding was being cleared away.

"You were just so sad… it just took me by surprise," she told him quietly, in response to his unasked question.

"Oh," he said, helpfully. Then: "I guess I was remembering old friends… it always comes back to you at this time of year." She could tell he was lying, but had no idea why so she nodded, a little dubiously; she was about to question her friend further when she caught sight of Ron and Hermione who had just entered the Great Hall. They surveyed the lack of food with dismay and made to leave once more.

Amelia bid a hasty goodnight to her colleagues and followed the pair out of the Hall, catching up with them by the entrance to the Dungeons.

"Miss dinner?" she asked, adding: "Where's Harry?" on their nod of assent.

The look that the pair of them exchanged told her that whatever they were going to say next would not be true; if she didn't know her cousin as well as she did she might have thought that they'd been sneaking around, kissing behind statues.

"He wasn't feeling very well…" Ron began.

"…long day in the library…"

"…all that book dust, it's bad for the head…"

"…he went for an early night," finished Hermione, lamely. It did not escape Amelia's notice that Hermione was refusing to meet her eyes. Her expression must have indicated her disbelief as both students cringed slightly.

Amelia sighed; she wondered whether her excuses had ever seemed this transparent to her Mum and teachers. Some things just never changed, she guessed.

"Ron, as you've not eaten head down to the kitchens (it's behind the portrait of fruit – you have to tickle the giant pear) and have the elves deliver the three of you some food – better be to an empty classroom, I know what your brothers are like. If anyone gives you any bother tell them that you have my say so," she smiled a little at the look of incredulity that had crossed the boy's features. "Go on – I want a word with Hermione."

Simultaneously, their faces fell, but Ron hurried off with one last helpless look at Hermione.

"Mel –"

"Look, whatever it is that's happened, you clearly don't want me to know – I'm sure you can handle it; I trust you."

Hermione looked at her cousin for a moment before relaxing a little and letting out the breath she'd been holding.

"Thanks," she said.

Amelia shrugged, "This of course goes together with the assumption that if you needed to you'd come to me."

Hermione nodded.

"Good. Now that we've got that out of the way –" she saw Hermione's focus shift to somewhere behind her. Remus and Severus had apparently left the Great Hall together and were proceeding in uncomfortable silence. Lupin forced a smile at Amelia and her cousin before heading up the stairs. Severus stood for a moment watching the pair before continuing; he paused by the entrance to the dungeons and reluctantly turned to face Amelia's glare.

"Goodnight Amelia."

"Severus," she nodded, perturbed.

"Er – and you, Miss Granger…" he added.

"Sir," she responded, bewildered.

They watched him turn and swoosh away, mouths agape.

"Fair enough," Amelia said, turning back to the younger witch.

"I was just going to say that you can all come up tomorrow or Christmas if you'd like – I think I've figured out how to get the laptop to co-operate with the magic levels in my rooms. We could watch crappy movies and throw popcorn at the screen like we used to."

Hermione grinned, "That sounds great, I'll ask the boys."

"Might try to convince Remus to join us," Amelia added, thoughtfully. "He seems a bit down at the minute."

Hermione gave her an altogether too knowing look for a fourteen year old.

"You like him."

"Oh, come _on_ Hermione."

"No really," she said, beaming, "you _like_ him!"

"…"

"You smile more when he's around."

"…"

"And it's really good to see you smile again."

"…"

"It's quite sweet really."

"Hermione…"

"And he spends a lot of time at dinner looking at you for someone who isn't interested…"

"Hermione – wait, what? Does he?"

Hermione grinned in triumph.

"See! You do like him!"

Amelia sagged in defeat.

"Does he really, you know, watch me at dinner?"

Hermione nodded, "I think he was a little jealous of your friendship with Severus…"

"Oh."

"It really is good to see you happy again."

"It's been a rough couple of years for the pair of us," Amelia said.

Hermione nodded, a little sadly.

"And so what if I like him? Remus is a peach!"

The cousins grinned at one another.

"Anyway, you little rotter, I'll see you tomorrow. Evening-ish?"

"Yeah," Hermione nodded happily, "night Mel."

0o0

On the stairs above them Remus, who had (let's be honest) paused to eavesdrop found himself smiling, his earlier pessimism diminishing. As he hurried back to his rooms lest he be caught, he allowed this new feeling of hope to buoy him up once more.

He uncorked a fresh bottle of butterbeer in celebration and reached a book down from the shelf before settling down to read.

As he began, a worn photograph fell out of the pages and onto his lap. Sadly, he surveyed the smiling faces of four young boys and their fiery, red-headed friend – it must have been taken near to the end of their sixth-year as Lily didn't appear to be angry with James or Sirius. He went to replace it, but reconsidered and propped it up on the shelf where he could still see them fooling around in their frame.

The children in the picture waved out at him as they jostled one another and laughed at some private joke.

_If only I'd known then,_ he thought, forlornly.

0o0

Somewhere above him, Amelia plugged her headphones in and hit 'shuffle' on her iPod for the first time in months; she smiled a little at her earlier conversation. She _did_ like Remus, there was no disguising that from herself (or, apparently, Hermione), and if he liked her too… but things were so complicated. She hummed along to a song as she bustled around her room.

_The dawn is breaking_

_A light shining through_

_You're barely waking_

_And I'm tangled up in you…_

_Yeah_

She stopped by her mantelpiece, bottle of butterbeer in hand and gazed at an old family photo, taken a few years previously; she and Hermione were kneeling in front (her hair was still green from a recent trip to Sweden, she recalled), Hermione's Dad was at the back with his arms around his wife and sister. Amelia's Mum, not usually comfortable in photos, was grinning along with the rest.

Wiping the tears from her eyes she continued into her room and replaced the thoughts of her lost family with those that remained; Aunty Beatrice and Hermione.

_She's such a tough girl_, Amelia thought, but still worryingly quiet about her parents deaths… and stubborn in her insistence on keeping that from the school and her friends. It was as if saying it out loud would somehow make it more real. She was glad that she'd been offered a place here, if only to keep an eye on her young cousin.

_Well I'm open, you're closed_

_Where I follow, you'll go_

_I worry I won't see your face_

_Light up again_

Amelia put down her book, reached for a cushion and held it tightly as she thought about her bright young cousin. She appeared to be able to entirely separate the events of the past few summers from her life in the school; it was certainly better here than in Amelia's draughty old house. It had seemed so warm in her youth, but now it was cold, empty. She shook her head, trying to dislodge her tears…

Christmas had always been her family's favourite time of year.

_Even the best fall down sometimes_

_Even the wrong words seem to rhyme_

_Out of the darkness of my mind_

_I somehow find you and I collide_

At least she and Hermione could spend this one in the same building, and Aunty Bea would be at her church group outing… Amelia thought that the worst thing in the world would be to be completely alone at Christmas.

…and then there was Remus. He was such a lonely man for someone with such warmth. Once more, she remembered her earlier conversation with her cousin and, in the privacy of her own room, allowed herself to colour slightly.

He was certainly handsome despite his scars, albeit in a bookish kind of way; and kind, if a little quiet. But then it always seemed that somewhere just below the surface there was this bright, wicked sense of humour… he was certainly interesting. And she was pretty quiet and bookish, when she came to think about it, under all her bluster. The more she thought about it, the more it dawned upon her that she might be persuaded to fall for her wolfish companion…

_Companion?_ Her mind quizzed, suddenly amused,_ would that he were!_

She smiled at the thought of him before blowing out her candle.

_I'm quiet you know_

_You make a first impression_

_I've found I'm scared to know_

_I'm always on your mind_

0o0

In the Gryffindor Common Room, Hermione stood by the fire, oblivious to the throng of people who were enjoying the Weasley twins' end of term exuberance. Staring into the flames, she recalled a Christmas not too long before, when she and Amelia had been with their families at Aunty Bea's farm, playing card games in front of a different hearth while their relative roared with laughter at some thing or another. It had snowed that day, for the first time in ages, and Hermione had found herself missing her new school friends.

Amelia had read through her essays and declared her homework to be 'Much more fun than ours ever was!' and they'd laughed, oblivious to the fragility of the scene, which had seemed that it would come around every year without interruption. She'd been missing school and longing for the holiday to end, just so she could get back and solve the mystery of Nicholas Flamel and Professor Snape's odd behaviour.

She snorted, softly.

_Not that his behaviour's that normal now_, she thought. But then, Amelia had that sort of effect on people.

What she wouldn't give to be back at the farm now, eating gingerbread and ignoring her relatives argue about education as she listened to one of Amelia's 'Well there was this guy…****' stories.

_Even the best fall down sometimes_

_Even the stars refuse to shine_

_Out of the back you fall in time_

_I somehow find you and I collide_

"'Mione?"

Lost in her thoughts, she'd completely forgotten about her concern for Harry and Ron's mission to extract him from the dormitories.

"Any luck?" she asked, though she hadn't really needed to; his expression said it all.

Ron shook his head, "I think he's pretending to sleep." He looked at her downcast expression. "Come on 'Mione," he said, suddenly full of gallantry. "Your supper awaits!" he announced, holding the Portrait of Sir Cadogan open for his friend ('Stand and fight, you scurvy cur!') so flamboyantly that Hermione had to laugh.

Smiling, she allowed herself to be led to a nearby empty classroom. As Ron pulled a seat out for her and the house elves brought in their private feast she reflected that perhaps she also had a family to treasure here at Hogwarts.

0o0

In the third-year boy's dormitory, Harry Potter opened his cabinet, pushed his books aside and quickly found what he was looking for – the leather bound photograph album that Hagrid had given him two years ago, which was full of wizard pictures of his mother and father. He sat down on his bead, drew the hangings around him, and started turning the pages, searching, until…

He stopped on a picture of his parents' wedding day. There was his father waving up at him, beaming, the untidy black hair Harry had inherited standing up in all directions. There was his mother, alight with happiness, arm in arm with his Dad. And there… that must be him. Their best man… Harry had never given him a thought before.

If he hadn't known it was the same person, he would never have guessed it was Black in this old photograph. His face wasn't sunken and waxy, but handsome, full of laughter. Had he already been working for Voldemort when this picture had been taken? Was he already planning the deaths of the two people next to him? Did he realise he was facing twelve years in Azkaban, twelve years that would make him unrecognisable?

_But the Dementors don't affect him_, Harry thought, staring into the handsome, laughing face. _He doesn't have to hear my Mum screaming if they get too close_ –

Harry slammed the album shut, reached over and stuffed it back into his cabinet, took off his robes and glasses.

A hatred such as he'd never known before was coursing through Harry like poison. He could see Black laughing at him through the darkness, as though someone had pasted the picture from the album over his eyes. He watched, as though somebody was playing him a piece of film, Sirius Black blasting Peter Pettigrew (who resembled Neville Longbottom) into a thousand pieces. He could hear (though he had no idea what Black's voice might sound like) a low, excited mutter. 'It has happened, my Lord… the Potters have made me their Secret-Keeper…' And then came another voice, laughing shrilly, the same laugh that Harry heard inside his head whenever the Dementors drew near…

_Don't stop here_

_I lost my place_

_I'm close behind_

_Even the best fall down sometimes_

_Even the wrong words seem to rhyme_

_Out of the doubt that fills my mind…_

0o0o0o0

*Originally by the Mudbloods, who have something of a flair for wit.

**Aha.

*** 'Collide' by Howie Day… credit to Miss RJ Lupin of youtube who made the fabulous video that first introduced me to this song.

****They tended to start badly and rapidly go down hill. Still, Amelia appeared to enjoy telling them as much as she'd enjoyed living them; vaguely she wondered whether this year would turn into another of them…


	11. Christmas Spirits

Christmas Eve saw the school curiously empty as the bulk of students had buggered off home. Amelia made a point of waving off the majority of the Weasley family, mostly to ensure that the twins really were going home. She'd sternly instructed Ginny to run rings around her elder brothers and received a particularly evil grin from the small witch. It was clear that the youngest Weasley would also be one to watch in future.

She spent the morning relaxing in one of the least dangerous greenhouses with Poppy and Pomona; they were joined around lunchtime by Minerva and Eveline Vector, the wife of the Arithmancy Professor, and the five of them enjoyed an excellent cream tea lunch – apparently a tradition for the mistresses of Hogwarts – while discussing current events*.

Once her Christmas presents had been delivered to Argus Filch, the gruffest and least likely Santa Claus that she could ever have imagined, she headed down to the kitchens in order to arrange the 'traditional' provisions for the night before Christmas. After wishing the eager elves a Merry Christmas she headed back to the upper echelons of the castle.

Remembering the conversation of the previous evening, she detoured to Remus's rooms, which turned out to be empty once she'd reached them. Leaving a note explaining her plans she wandered back to her rooms to decorate. Whilst hanging some origami fairy lights above her window (and fondly recalling late nights in the old Mill buildings back at Uni') she spied Hermione, Ron and Harry leaving Hagrid's cottage. She was glad that Hermione had the boys to be with these days.

0o0

Remus wandered in around mid afternoon and was cheerfully pressed into service decorating her rooms – knowing a few more spells than Amelia, he charmed a string of coloured lights to hover delicately above the small tree she had up in a corner. He seemed truly bewildered at her seasonal enthusiasm as the elves set out the food on a rickety table. Amelia laughed at him and told him that he was very cute when he was confused; he'd blushed so hard he'd matched the red of the poinsettia adorning the wreath on the door, which of course made Amelia laugh all the harder.

Hermione and her friends seemed a little down when they arrived, but Amelia received an 'I'll tell you later' look in answer to her questioning glance. After gorging themselves on salmon, walnuts, clementines and gingerbread during the first film (Ruthless People) and laughing themselves silly at the ending everyone was more cheerful and relaxed. Even Harry, who looked totally exhausted, managed the odd smile. During the second film, Amelia took out her knitting bag and swore loudly.

"Miss!" said Ron, greatly impressed.

"Oh, we're all friends here, Ron, just call me Mel." She turned to her cousin and declared, "There's a yarn in my knot!"

Hermione took hold of the proffered knitting bag and sighed. Amelia's yarn stash had apparently decided to mate with itself.

"Honestly, it's worse than tribbles in here…" she declared, earning confused looks from all but Amelia. Nevertheless, she delved into the bag and extricated several balls of wool to untangle. Very soon all five of them were contentedly puzzling their way through the intensely tangled yarn bag. Amelia realised, once it had all been packed away again, that she'd missed most of the film, instead being enthralled by Lupin's nimble fingers, working the threads beside her. Aware that there were three kids in the room she tried very hard not to speculate what those nimble fingers would feel like on her skin…

Hermione, who had noticed a certain lack of concentration on her cousin's part, gave her a dirty wink at the earliest opportunity, earning herself a stern glare. Turning back to the film (and genuinely trying not to snigger) she decided that Amelia's glares were more effective when she wasn't blushing.

The end of Shrek heralded a general reshuffling of positions as the five friends stretched their limbs and refilled their plates. Amelia emerged from her bedroom with a box of Lebkuchen, sent on by the infamous Aunty Bea, which Hermione, now lying on her front by the fire, happily began to munch through. Harry and Ron were sat on either side of her, almost protectively, their backs to the sofa, upon which Remus sat, cross legged, nursing a glass of wine. Amelia folded herself into the seat next to him, not quite close enough for them to be touching.

As Harry stood up to start the next film, Role Models, Remus and Amelia could feel the skin of their arms prickle where they had accidentally brush against one another. Amelia was trying to watch the film, laughing at all the inappropriate moments, but her mind was dwelling on the warmth in her arm as she again grazed against her fellow professor.

_Now just imagine what they would feel like on your stomach,_ her mind taunted, and she quickly finished her glass of wine, trying desperately not to do just that.

For his part, Remus was struggling, once again, with the thought of Amelia sat on his desk, not wearing very much – an image that had fleshed itself out in his mind considerably since it had first occurred to him; this time, however, she had a ribbon tied about her wrist like a Christmas present.

The Amelia on the sofa beside him gulped down her wine and shifted a little, before topping up his glass, which he took a larger sip from. The Amelia in his mind bit her lip at him, seductively. _Oh Gods…_

Neither adult noticed Hermione, who was immensely amused by their inability to concentrate on anything other than each other (and the boys' inability to see any of it), slyly conjure a small garland of mistletoe above Amelia's door.

0o0

Remus lingered after the party had wound up and the kids had wandered off to bed. A little embarrassed by her feelings, Amelia chose to clear away her computer before turning, arms laden, to see him leaning against a nearby door joist, just watching her; his head was a little to one side in quiet contemplation.

"What?" she asked.

"I…" he met her eyes before looking away. "Let me help you." Together they carried the remains of the yarn and (to Remus's mind) the bizarre array of Muggle technology through to Amelia's room, where, equipment safely stowed, the pair experienced a second moment of awkwardness.

"I should be off, I suppose," he said, slowly making for the door.

"Yes… it is rather late…" Amelia replied, glancing at the clock. "…Remus?"

"Yes?" he answered, pausing by the door, one hand on the frame.

Amelia hesitated and her nerve failed.

"Er- Merry Christmas," she said, helplessly, turning back to her dresser and furiously cursing inside her own head.

"Amelia?"

"Yes?" she turned back to face him.

"I just wanted to thank you… it's been a lovely evening with you and the others. I haven't felt so, well, _wanted_ at Christmas since… well it's been a long time… and..." he trailed off, staring at the floor in front of him.

Amelia, once again marvelling at the solitude that her colleague had been subject to, crossed to him and, not really knowing what else to do, gently ruffled his hair. He met her gaze and smiled sadly, her hand still resting on his shoulder.

Now if this were a film, dear reader, there would at this point be some poignant violin action, or at least a gentle piano melody as the two of them slowly moved in for a kiss; but as this is not, in fact a film…

At the last second Amelia, deafened by the sound of her own heartbeat and almost completely absorbed by the man in front of her, was instantly and entirely distracted by the bottommost leaves of Hermione's conspiratorial garland of mistletoe. Her head, following her gaze, shot up and she glared at the offending greenery, moment lost.

"Oh, I am going to _kill_ her! No, _maim_ her and _then_ kill her!"

Remus, whose eyes had mirrored Amelia's in their journey skywards, burst out laughing, despite himself. Amelia, momentarily nonplussed, regarded him with alarm before she, too, dissolved into laughter.

"I-I'll help if you l-like," Remus managed, between sporadic (and inherently un-manly) giggles.

Amelia reached out an arm to steady herself and found Remus's shoulder.

"You know what would drive her really nuts?" she queried, gasping for breath. "If w-we did the same to her one d-day!"

Remus nodded, "We'll have to choose our moment carefully and th-th-then _pounce_!"

Sides aching with mirth and tears rolling down their cheeks, they held each other upright until the waves of merriment ceased.

Amelia sighed heavily and kissed Remus sweetly, intending to turn away in order to usher him off. Remus, whose eyes had fluttered closed as their lips had met, had other ideas. He gently pulled her back to him, once hand tangled in her hair, one delicately resting on the small of her back and kissed her again, tenderly but more firmly.

After several minutes they came up for air, faces flushed and hair tousled, and stood, bodies closely entwined, eyes met in new understanding until the cry of a distant night bird broke both their gaze and their embrace.

"…I really should go," Remus said, reluctantly. "My transformation…"

Amelia nodded and wished him a Merry Christmas before watching his retreating form move down the passage. Returning to her room she began to plot her cousin's demise in intense detail.

0o0o0o0

Just as Amelia's rooms had been festooned with the colours of the season, the usual magnificent Christmas decorations had been put up in the rest of the castle, despite the fact that hardly any of the students had remained to enjoy them. Thick streamers of holly and mistletoe were strung along the corridors, mysterious lights shone from inside every suit of armour and the Great Hall was filled with it usual twelve Christmas trees, glittering with golden stars. A powerful and delicious smell of cooking pervaded the corridors, making the stomachs of those remaining at Hogwarts rumble in anticipation.

On Christmas morning Amelia was woken by the memory of Remus's lips on hers and she dressed as if in a dream. Mentally scolding herself for drippiness, she applied herself to the first order of business for Christmas – the unwrapping of presents.

She was delighted to discover that Pomona had provided her with several jars of hard-to-obtain herbs, while Poppy Pomfrey had opted for a bottle of sparkling wine.

She received several excellent books from various staff members, including an unexpected but appreciated collection of 16th century ribald limericks from Dumbledore. She found herself blushing as she read through them, realising just what that twinkle behind his half-moon spectacles might represent and wondering whether she'd ever be able to meet his eyes again. Being once more amused by the general oddness of her employer, Amelia returned her attention to the few remaining packages. There was a beautiful shawl from Aunty Bea and an Egyptian 'Khet' game from Hermione; Molly Weasley, bless her, had provided her with a stack of peanut brittle and a pair of magnificently colourful socks.

Clearing away the majority of bright wrapping paper Amelia discovered two hitherto overlooked gifts, one wrapped in elegant silver and green wrapping paper the other more simply clad in brown packing paper. The former, from Severus, contained several packets of seeds ('_For that garden you miss_') and an apology ('_Sorry I'm so bloody grumpy_'); she was happy to find that he'd even remembered her favourites, Sweet Peas.

Amelia smiled. It seemed that her morose colleague was trying to mend their battered friendship; well, it was a start.

The second package contained a worn copy of Much Ado about Nothing. Inside the front cover was a slip of paper with the words:

'_To my pleasant spirited lady, sent in the hopes of further sharpening that keen wit, from your Benedick'_

Amelia, familiar with the play, bit her lip. It seemed that Remus really cared for her. An odd but not unpleasant feeling settled in her stomach as she began to turn the pages. Smiling to herself, she curled up in her windowseat and followed the thread of the words to Messina.

0o0

At lunchtime she went down to the Great Hall to find that the house tables had been moved against the walls again, and that a single table, set for twelve, stood in the middles of the room. Dumbledore, Minerva, Severus, Pomona, Filius and Argus were all there. Argus had taken off his usual brown coat and was wearing a very old and rather mouldy-looking tail-coat. There were only five students: Hermione, Harry, Ron and two extremely nervous-looking first years.

Amelia greeted them brightly, thanking Hermione and her colleagues for their presents; Severus, ostensibly avoiding her gaze exchanged a brief nod and smile with her before recollecting his usual dour expression so as not to lose face in front of the students. He was wearing her gift, a black scarf with the occasional fleck of emerald green, and he would periodically rearrange it and smile.

Dumbledore happily showed off his knitted, knee-high, violently colourful socks to Minerva, who shook her head jovially and herself nodded at Amelia.

"Merry Christmas!" said Dumbledore as her cousin and her friends approached the table. "As there are so few of us, it seemed foolish to use the house tables… sit down, sit down!"

The three of them sat down side by side at the end of the table.

"Crackers!" said Dumbledore enthusiastically, offering the end of a large silver one to Severus, who took it reluctantly and tugged. With a bang like a gunshot, the cracker flew apart to reveal a large, pointed witch's hat topped with a stuffed vulture.

Harry and Ron exchanged amused grins, as did Hermione and Amelia, who also noted that Pomona and Minerva were shaking with ill-contained silent mirth. The legend of Snape and the Boggart would clearly not be one that died quickly. Briefly assessing her colleagues she decided that Pomona and Filius were probably responsible for the hat; Filius winked at her in a conspiratorial fashion.

Severus's mouth thinned and he pushed the hat towards Dumbledore, who swapped it for his wizard's hat at once.

"Tuck in!" he advised the table, beaming around.

As Amelia was helping herself to gravy, the doors of the Great Hall swung open once more. It was Sybill Trelawney, gliding towards them as if on wheels. She had put on a green sequinned dress in honour of the occasion, making her look more than ever like a glittering, oversize dragonfly.

"Sybill, this is a pleasant surprise!" said Dumbledore, standing up.

"I have been crystal gazing, Headmaster," she said, in her mistiest, most faraway voice, "and to my astonishment, I saw myself abandoning my solitary luncheon and coming to join you. Who am I to refuse the promptings of fate? I at once hastened from my tower, and I do beg you to forgive my lateness…"

_Crystal gazing my bottom,_ thought Amelia. It hadn't escaped her that the woman looked rather overdressed for a solitary luncheon, nor the way she'd looked at Severus, who, to her amusement, looked rather like a deer caught in the headlights of a particularly fast moving truck.

"Certainly, certainly, Dumbledore was saying, his eyes twinkling. "Let me draw you up a chair –"

And he did indeed draw a chair in mid-air with his wand, which revolved for a few seconds before falling with a thud between Minerva and the stricken Severus. Sybill much to Amelia's surprise, did not sit down; her eyes had been roving around the table and suddenly she uttered a kind of soft scream.

"I dare not Headmaster! If I join the table we shall be thirteen! Nothing could be more unlucky! Never forget that when thirteen dine together, the first to rise will be the first to die!"

Amelia felt her eyes roll involuntarily.

"We'll risk it, Sybill," said Minerva impatiently. "Do sit down, the turkey's getting stone cold."

Sybill hesitated, then lowered herself into the empty chair, eyes shut and mouth clenched tight, as though expecting a thunderbolt to hit the table. Minerva poked a large spoon into the nearest tureen.

"Tripe, Sybill?"

Amelia attempted not to choke on her roast potato as she met Filius's eyes.

Sybill ignored her. Eyes open again, she looked around once more and said, "But where is dear Professor Lupin?"

"I'm afraid the poor fellow is ill again," said Dumbledore, helping himself to what Amelia could only assume was bread sauce. "Most unfortunate that it should happen on Christmas Day."

"But surely you already knew that, Sybill?" asked Minerva, a little too innocently, eyebrows raised.

Sybill gave her a very cold look.

"Certainly I knew, Minerva," she said quietly. "But one does not parade the fact that one is All-Knowing. I frequently act as though I am not possessed of the Inner Eye, so as not to make others nervous."

Across from Amelia, Filius was sniggering into his bacon-wrapped sausages.

"That explains a great deal," said Minerva, tartly.

Amelia snorted into her roast dinner and quickly feigned a coughing fit on Dumbledore's stern glance; next to her, Severus was also trying not to smile – his eyes twinkled as she glanced up at him. At the other side of the table Pomona was biting her lip as Filius began to turn puce beside her.

Sybill's voice suddenly became a good deal less misty.

"If you must know, Minerva, I have seen that poor Professor Lupin will not be with us for very long. He seems aware, himself, that his time is short. He positively fled when I offered to crystal gaze for him –"

"I'll bet he did," muttered Severus, under his breath.

"Imagine that," said Minerva, drily.

"I doubt," said Dumbledore in a cheerful but slightly raised voice, which put an end to Minerva and Sybill's conversation, "that Professor Lupin is in any immediate danger. Severus, you've made the potion for him again?"

"Yes, Headmaster," said Severus.

"Good," said Dumbledore. Then he should be up and about in no time… Derek, have you had any of these chipolatas? They're excellent."

The first-year Hufflepuff boy went furiously red on being addressed directly by Dumbledore, and took the platter of sausages with trembling hands.

Sybill behaved almost normally until the very end of Christmas dinner, two hours later. Full to bursting with Christmas dinner and still wearing their cracker hats, Harry and Ron got up first from the table and she shrieked, loudly.

"My dears! Which of you left his seat first? Which?"

"Dunno," said Ron, looking uneasily at Harry. Amelia made a mental note to have a word with the boy about elocution.

"I doubt it will make much difference," said Minerva coldly, "unless a mad axe-man is waiting outside the doors to slaughter the first into the Entrance Hall."

Even Ron laughed; Sybill was glaring daggers at the older witch.

"Coming?" said Harry to Hermione.

"No," she muttered. "I want a quick word with Professor McGonagall."

Minerva took Hermione to one side; Amelia, unable to contain her curiosity watched them and was beckoned over by the older witch.

Hermione was wringing her hands wretchedly.

"Go on, Miss Granger," Minerva encouraged.

"Well, it's just –" she looked Amelia, who frowned and nodded at her.

"Harry received a Firebolt this morning."

"Lucky bu-_cough_-boy," Amelia interjected.

Hermione nodded, "It's world class, really expensive. But it didn't say who it was from – I can't think of anyone who could afford to give him something like that…"

The expressions of the two older witches darkened considerably.

"Sirius Black," said Amelia, less a question now than a statement.

"Exactly!" exclaimed her cousin, "it's the one thing Harry won't be able to resist using, and if it's got some sort of dark magic on it…"

Minerva nodded, "We shall have to test it. Miss Granger, if you'll come with me." The two of them left the Great Hall looking determined.

Amelia turned back to the party to find Severus watching her hopefully; Sybill was once more attempting to engage him in flirtatious conversation, but he was doing his best to avoid her. Taking pity, Amelia sat down beside Trelawney and engaged her in a detailed discourse about her own astrology. Sybill, delighted that someone was finally taking an interest in her art entirely abandoned all attempt to attract favour from Snape and began to provide Amelia with a full analysis of her charts, jotting down notes on a hitherto concealed notebook.

After a while she looked at Amelia, frowning, and said, "But that can't be right… you're impossible."

"I beg your pardon?" said Amelia, a little unnerved by her colleague's sudden change in demeanour.

"Your charts suggest, my dear, that you're – no," she said, looking up at her. "I'll double check, my dear, no use worrying you."

Amelia marvelled at the irony of this statement, but decided not to dwell on this and forced a laugh. "What's my future then?"

Sybill turned back to her, "Your immediate future contains much trouble and unhappiness, I'm afraid; an old wound will be opened and you will come off the worse for it."

Amelia was left gaping after Trelawney, nonplussed.

0o0

Severus escorted her back to her rooms.

"Thank you for distracting Sybill," he said to her as they reached her door.

"Oh, it's nothing mate," Amelia smiled. "Thanks for the apology – the seeds will be lovely."

Severus smiled slightly, "There, you see? I do listen to people. Thank you for the scarf – how did you know that black was my colour?"

Amelia smacked him lightly on the arm as his evil grin developed.

"Perhaps I'm just psychic, my dear – schooled in the ancient and mystic arts," she continued, in a creditable impression of Sybill.

It was Severus's turn to smack her in the arm and they laughed.

"I suppose you'll be spending the evening with our _lupine_ friend?" he asked, giving her a sidelong glance.

Amelia sighed, a little exasperated.

"What've you got against him anyway? Is it just the wolf thing or did you both fall for the same girl in school or something?"

A dark shadow crossed Severus's features.

"Amelia, just leave it, will you? We have contentedly hated one another for the better part of twenty years, you aren't going to change that now," he said in a tired voice.

As ridiculous as this sounded to her, she nodded, reflecting that there were a good few schoolmates that she could happily continue to detest until she died.

"Alright. But you have to be at least polite when I'm around. I value your friendship and enjoy your company – both of you – and I don't want to be constantly being the umpire in an endless bickering match."

"Fair enough," he conceded, pleased that their rekindled friendship wasn't going to suffer because of that bloody werewolf.

"I was just wondering if you'd care to join me for a game of chess or something, but if you're… otherwise _engaged_… we could do it tomorrow."

Amelia smiled, blushing very slightly at the direction his filthy mind had apparently taken.

"Sounds good, but I warn you, my chess skills will bewilder and bedazzle you."

"Oh yes? I happen to be the ex-Hogwarts champion, I'll have you know."

"And I'll have you know that I'm probably the worst player ever to have looked at a board."

Severus chuckled at her mischievous grin.

"Tomorrow, then?"

"Tomorrow."

0o0o0o0

As Amelia settled down with one of her new books she reflected once more on the dire warnings that Sybill had so calmly proclaimed; frowning and with an effort, she cast them from her mind.

She had barely finished the first chapter when there was a knock at her door; marking her page, she crossed to it and it opened to reveal a frowning Snape.

On her questioning look he moved back slightly to reveal a shaking and tearful Hermione who was promptly pulled into a hug.

As Amelia hustled her cousin into her rooms, she indicated through means of wild sign language behind her back that Severus, who was hovering uncomfortably by the door, should put the kettle on.

Feeling that this was very much Amelia's area of expertise he gratefully and awkwardly did as he was told. Although dealing with crying young women was technically part of his job description he tended to deliver them to Madame Pomfrey after patting them ineffectually on the shoulder a few times.

As Hermione tearfully explained about the Firebolt and the boys' reactions to its stripping down, and Amelia rubbed her shoulders comfortingly, Severus hid in the corner of Amelia's living room devoted to the making of tea. He carried three mugs of steaming tea over to the sofa, and handed the one with four sugars to Hermione, having remembered something his mother had once told him about treatments for shock.

"And even before all this they were distant because Crookshanks tried to eat Scabbers, and now they h-h-hate me!"

Snape, a little flummoxed, mouthed 'Crookshanks?' over Hermione's head as the girl dissolved into a fresh wave of sobs.

'Hermione's cat tried to eat Ron's rat,' Amelia mouthed back.

'_Ah._'

"Oh, come on Hermione, they're just being angry teenagers," she said, trying to get her cousin to look up.

"B-but if the b-broom is from Black, then-"

"Yes. Harry could be killed," she agreed, deciding that honesty would be the best approach.

Hermione looked up at her, shocked, perhaps, by hearing her fears spoken out loud so matter-of-factly.

"The thing about young lads – well young people in general – is that they think they're immortal," Amelia said, gauging her cousin's expression. "Oh sure, we've all heard of death, walked through graveyards, even seen it in our own families and all that, but we don't really get to understand properly until we're a little older. You remember when Aunty Bea was young she used to break in horses down at the riding stables?"

Hermione nodded, still sniffling, but calming down enough to listen.

"She used to fall all the time, even badly, but she'd always get right back up into the saddle until her Ernie died. The first time she fell after that she stopped riding for years – she's only got back into it recently."

"So?"

"So she realised how easy it was to die. Until he realises that, Harry won't fully understand the true danger that Black represents. Which is better, I suppose, than him jumping at everything that moves – but it does mean that he'll be angry with you for a while.

"You did the right thing though, and he's a smart boy, he knows that, it'll just take a bit for him to realise it."

"I suppose so," said Hermione, sniffling a little.

Amelia looked at Snape imploringly; he cleared his throat uncertainly.

"Er- yes. And as for Ron and his rat, boys are idiots at your age – they'll figure out that they miss you soon enough."

"Do you really think so?" Hermione had apparently forgotten that it was Snape she was talking to and was looking up at him with big eyes; behind her Amelia was nodding fervently.

"Well, you know my opinion of the two of them," he began, lip curling slightly. "But you seem to keep them out of a lot of the trouble that they are so good at getting themselves into. You're one of the most sensible and intelligent witches of your age that I've met in a long time, Miss Granger – no matter what I usually say – and as Amelia says, they know that too. The three of you will be thick as thieves and annoying the crap out of me again in no time," he finished, hoping that this would do the trick.

Hermione stared at him for a few seconds then despite, or perhaps because, this had come from someone who couldn't normally stand her, she nodded briskly and pulled herself together.

"Ok?" Amelia asked her, still concerned.

"M-yeah," she replied; Amelia was struck suddenly by how young she looked – she'd become so used to the tough-girl act that she'd almost forgotten her cousin's youth.

"Tell you what, why don't you have a wash, grab some of my old pyjamas and curl up here with a book?"

Hermione nodded and wandered off into Amelia's bedroom.

"Thanks," Amelia said, as soon as she was out of earshot; Severus shook his head.

"I found her outside the library. Is she going to be alright?"

Amelia nodded. "Maybe not right away, but she'll get there. What you said really helped."

"Well she _is_ a good witch, despite her dubious choice of friends."

Amelia rolled her eyes, "they're good lads, Severus," she said, "and you could treat her with slightly less contempt."

"I'm working on it," he said, but frowned. "Potter will take more work however – his father and I… were often at odds with one another, and he resembles him so closely."

Again, Amelia's eyes flicked skywards, "must have been some extra-friendly odds for you to hold a grudge thirteen years after his death…"

"Er- yes. Look, if she's alright, I'll be off…"

Severus gratefully retreated on her nod as Hermione emerged from the bedroom wearing some pyjamas that had probably last been worn in Mel's 'bright college days'. Their owner retrieved her warmest cardigan from the back of a chair and wrapped it around Hermione in a tight hug.

"You'll be alright, my love," she said. Hermione returned the hug.

"Did Professor Snape mean what he said?" she asked, allowing herself to be led to the windowseat.

"I think so. He's an odd man, that one – but he's trying to be less…" Amelia searched for an appropriate word.

"Evil?"

"… unpleasant."

Hermione laughed at that and wrapped the cardigan around her more tightly, then looked rather confused at the crackling noise that this produced. Curious, she identified the source of the sound in the pocket of the garment.

"Oh, I'd forgotten about that," Amelia exclaimed, "looks like it's from Aunty Bea, you open it."

Hermione did so, unfolding the crisp paper within.

"Dearest Amelia," she read, "hoping that you and the little monster are well. I hate to inconvenience you dear, but…" Hermione trailed off, eyes flicking rapidly across the page.

"But what?" Amelia asked, that familiar prickle of concern pressing the back of her neck. "Hermione?"

Wordlessly, and with a face deepened with worry lines she handed the letter to her cousin. Once she'd read it, the pair stared silently at one another for some time. It was Amelia who broke the silence first, "I'll have to go."

"Mel," Hermione began.

"He's harassing Bea."

"Mel, don't -"

"I'll head out straight away."

"Mel, for gods' sake! He'll –"

"I know!" she snapped. "Sorry." Then: "I have to."

"I know…"

"I'll go straight to Dumbledore; can you do me a favour?"

0o0

Severus was sat in his rooms listening to the wireless when Hermione knocked on his door. Deftly switching the machine off, removing his feet from the desk and smoothing down his robes, he steepled his fingers together.

"Come."

Hermione, still bundled up in her cousin's clothes and paler than live humans are supposed to be, came into the room. Despite her fragile appearance she stood straight backed and determined before him.

Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Amelia – that is, my cousin – has been called away unexpectedly to deal with a family emergency. She's spoken to Professor Dumbledore, but asked me to inform you that she is regrettably unable to join you for chess tomorrow."

Concerned both by his student's demeanour and the suddenness of Amelia's departure Severus began, "may I enquire after the nature of the predicament, Miss Granger?" he matched her formal tone.

"Only that it is a personal matter and that she does not yet know when she will return."

"I see."

"She also wishes to ask a favour of you, Sir," Hermione continued more timidly.

"Oh?"

Hermione bit her lip.

"Sit down, Miss Granger, and tell me what you can."

Several floors above, Remus lay by the fire in his office, quietly excited and awaiting Amelia's arrival. He looked up as the door opened and began to wag his tail; this action ceased abruptly however, as he saw who it was that had entered.

"Forgive the intrusion, Lupin," Snape sneered.

Remus, despite himself, growled.

"I am simply here to relay a message. Miss Brown has been called away unexpectedly on family business and does not know when she will return. She sends her apologies."

Remus's heart plummeted into his stomach **; this felt like real trouble.

"She also suggested I offer my own company in her stead, though I suspect we are both equally opposed to that idea."

Remus vaguely resisted the urge to chew on Severus's leg and nodded.

"Right. I expect that the house elves will be available to feed you and attend to your needs; do try not to eat them." With that he swished out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

If he hadn't been so worried about Amelia (or currently a wolf) he might have chuckled.

_Had Severus just made a _joke_?_

0o0o0o0

Hermione, curled up on the window seat in Amelia's room, watched the December rain trail down the window miserably. As she intended to remain in Amelia's quarters until her cousin returned safely Severus had, kindly and unexpectedly, instructed the house elves to bring up her books and some of her clothes, and keep her appropriately fed. She was seeing and entirely new side of her dour professor, she mused; after ensuring her relative well-being he had, somewhat awkwardly, wished her a good-night and instructed her to send a message to him immediately if either she or Amelia needed anything.

What she needed, Hermione thought, was for Amelia to be back safe and sound. She'd picked at her food and made a few notes on her work but she was too worried for her cousin to properly concentrate.

Although she knew Aunty Bea could take care of both herself and Amelia, Hermione could still imagine the kind and extent of trouble that that bastard could cause. She remembered sitting beside Amelia's hospital bed waiting for her friend to wake for days after their last encounter. Her cousin had seemed so small and pale compared to her usual colourful nature; Hermione had never been more afraid in her life, even when, the summer before that she'd run, unthinking, across town to the smoking pile of rubble that had once been her home.

Amelia had been there, pale and shaking, but still strong and sensible enough to hold her cousin. Without her, Hermione knew, she would not have survived thus far. Without Amelia…

Desperately, she reached for her Potions homework and tried, unsuccessfully to banish such thoughts from her treacherous mind.

0o0o0o0

*i.e. Gossiping.

** Although as he was currently a wolf, this was more of a sideways movement than a downwards one.


	12. Why Eggnog is a Bad Idea

It was two days before New Year's when Hagrid met an unusually quiet Amelia from Hogsmeade Station. There were dark circles under her eyes and she gave the impression of complete exhaustion; the usually spry and verbose young witch winced as she walked and the journey to the castle was a silent one.

Hermione, who had spent the day trying to dig up information for Hagrid's case, jumped up as Amelia entered her rooms and quickly removed her cousin's backpack; Amelia put up no resistance whatsoever.

"Could you tell Dumbledore I'm back please, Hermione?" she said quietly, without looking at her cousin.

Hermione, relieved at her cousin's return but aware of its likely cost, complied immediately, making a short detour to the dungeons.

When Severus reached Amelia's rooms she was still stood just inside the room, apparently staring into space.

"Amelia?" he asked, cautiously.

When she didn't respond he laid an arm upon her shoulder and gently led her to the sofa, gingerly pushing her down onto it; he frowned as she winced at the movement.

Hermione skidded back into the room at that instant and was set to making tea in a curious parody of Christmas day.

When hot beverage had been served to needy recipient Hermione sat beside her cousin on the sofa and Severus stood by the fireplace, aware that he was probably intruding on something private, his frown deepened by the flames.

"Is it done with?" Hermione asked, conscious of the Potions Master's presence.

Amelia nodded slowly, "For now." Her voice seemed very quiet in a room full of lengthening shadows.

"And Bea's ok?"

Another nod.

Hermione relaxed a little, satisfied; as her gaze travelled down she saw a deep patch of red blossoming on the sleeve of Amelia's shirt.

"What did he do to you?" she demanded, suddenly furious.

Severus was struck suddenly, somewhere in that part of the mind that ticks over when action is needed, by their resemblance to one another; both equally fierce and vulnerable, and both entirely unwilling to show it. His admiration for Hermione moved up a notch.

He moved forward and gently tapped his wand to her arm; slowly, the bleeding stopped.

"Are there any more?" he asked, trying to keep his own anger at his friend's treatment out of his voice.

Amelia indicated several other areas that were causing her pain and each time Severus carefully removed the wound.

Gently, he knelt before her.

"Amelia, tell me what is going on," he instructed, laying a hand delicately on her shoulder as she began to sob. Hermione held her hand tightly as she began to explain.

"I was engaged to this guy, Steve," she began, trying to steady her voice. "He was sweet, charming, thoughtful, the works – when my mother died he was a brick, he stuck around and picked me up each time I fell down."

Amelia went quiet and Hermione frowned, before turning slightly towards Severus. The younger witch explained quietly how Steve had become strange when Amelia had begun to recover, snapping and shouting at the slightest things.

"I think he liked being in control," Amelia managed, "and when I got better I took that away from him. Then, last summer…"

"I was staying with friends and I got a phone call from the hospital that Amelia had been badly hurt," Hermione continued, grimly. "Steve had just lost it. When I got there Mel was in intensive care, covered in scars and bruises, white as the sheets she was wrapped in… the doctors didn't know if she'd wake up." Hermione suddenly looked much older to Severus.

"I stayed with her… it was a couple of weeks before she woke up. I got most of my summer homework done in her hospital room… I wouldn't let Steve in when he came to visit…"

"When I woke up, Hermione was still there," added Amelia, "and Steve was waiting for us outside when we left. He kept saying he was really sorry and that it would never happen again," she gave a sort of strangled laugh. "I told Hermione to go and stay with Aunty Bea –"

"Which I only did because you shouted at me," Hermione added, stubbornly.

"- because I was afraid he'd hurt her." She turned to Hermione, "I couldn't see another way…"

"I understood," said Hermione, and held her cousin's arm a bit tighter.

"When he drove me home he kept saying how it was all my fault and that if I'd behaved he wouldn't have to act like that. I waited until he'd gone to the pub that night, called one of my mates and got out of there. Since then he's taken to harassing various family members and friends – Aunty Bea wrote to me because he was threatening her and smashing things on her farm. She didn't want the police involved for my sake…"

Hermione, despite herself, snorted. "Oh, because the police arriving is so much worse than being beaten to a pulp."

Worryingly, Amelia didn't even react.

"It's done with now," she said, patting Hermione on the hand. "Aunty Bea's safe and there's no way he can reach you here."

Hermione's expression suggested that this assessment of the situation was fairly removed from her own, but chose not to say anything, instead running for the kitchens to get some food for Amelia. As she did so Severus laid a hand on Amelia's shoulder; she glanced up at him.

"I would have gone with you," he said gently.

"It was something I had to do."

"I know."

They were silent for a moment, then:

"Next time, you won't be alone. Now, go and have a bath, or whatever it is you women do to relax." With that, he swept from the room.

Amelia was touched, she suspected that few people got to see this side of Snape, and felt oddly privileged because of it.

0o0o0o0

After a hot bath and a good meal Amelia felt much better, and played a few rounds of crib with her cousin until Hermione took her stuff back to her dormitory, satisfied that Amelia was going to be ok.

Amelia removed the festive decorations a little sadly, packing them into a box with a wave of her wand; as she flicked her iPod onto shuffle there came a knock on her door.

"It's open," she called, through the strains of 'All That Jazz'; Remus came in as she turned around, he gave her an uncertain smile, which she returned, a little tiredly.

"Severus said you were back."

Amelia raised and eyebrow, "I didn't realise you were on speaking terms."

"Well, when we can avoid it, but we're both worried about you…" he chuckled, "… for the first time since we were fifteen you have provided common-ground for non-abusive conversation."

Amelia took a small bow and then winced, "Glad to be of service. Ouch."

Remus frowned and sat beside her as she gingerly lowered herself onto the sofa.

She took in his expression and said quietly, "I've had worse."

"Yes," he replied, "that's what worries me."

Amelia afforded him a grimace and he decided that it would be politic to change the subject; she would explain her absence and injuries when she was ready, and not before.

"Thank you for the book, by the way – it's been a while since I read something Muggle."

Amelia smiled, "It's a good one, that, full of whimsy. Thanks for the play – it's my favourite Shakespeare."

Remus grinned.

"I thought it might be, somehow," he paused, still smiling but more serious now, "I meant every word, you know."

"I know," she replied quietly, and gently took his hand. "It meant a great deal."

He looked up at her and frowned.

"He really hurt you, didn't he." It wasn't a question; Remus had noticed a deep purple bruise adorning her wrist.

"Yes," she said, so quietly that he almost missed it; he pulled her into a hug.

"Next time he'll have to face me," he said, and she could feel the growl in his voice reverberate through his chest.

Changing the subject once more, he started, "I was less sure about this, however –" and he extracted a collar from the depths of his pocket. Waving it in Amelia's general direction he enquired, "Wolfy McWolferson?" expression almost serious.

Amelia laughed, and then winced again; "Yeah, sorry about that – I have these ideas pop into my head and I really shouldn't pay attention to them." She glanced at him conspiratorially, "I thought you might appreciate the joke."

Smiling, he replied, "Mostly, but, _Wolfy McWolferson_? What did I do to deserve that?" he was doing a good impression of a stung man and Amelia suppressed a giggle.

"Have you _heard_ your name recently? I mean, you don't have to be a classicist to know that the founders of Rome were suckled by wolves; and then there's your surname, which is Latin for _what_?"

He laughed along with her and held up a hand in mock defeat, struck again that his old friends would certainly have approved of Amelia.

"Alright, alright. I hope you're not expecting me to wear it though!"

This image sent Amelia into a fresh wave of laughter – and wincing.

Remus decided that Amelia laughing was infinitely better than Amelia worrying, so he suggested that they put on another film. They cuddled up contentedly under a much loved woollen blanket and put on St Trinian's, Amelia saying that Remus needed a 'proper' education. A couple of hours and copious volume of eggnog later found them snoring gently in one another's arms in Amelia's bed, inhibitions and several layers of clothing discarded.

0o0o0o0

Amelia woke the next morning more comfortable than she had been in a long time; despite her injuries she was warm, contented and safely in someone's arms. This feeling of contentment lasted precisely until she opened her eyes, at which point the winter sunlight pouring in through a chink in her curtains decided to scorch its existence into her retinas.

Screwing her eyes shut and making a small noise of intense distress she attempted to escape the blinding daylight by turning over and burrowing back under her duvet but instead encountered an equally hung-over and increasingly embarrassed Remus Lupin.

Painfully, they squinted at one another for a moment before each scrambled for the clothes that they had abandoned the evening before.

"Er…"

"Yeah."

"…"

"Ow."

"Yeah."

Remus, now almost fully dressed (and a fetching shade of crimson), was attempting to cross to the door but was currently hampered by some pyjamas which had attached themselves to his ankles in a determined fashion. He bent down to disentangle himself and caught a glimpse of a delicate tattoo disappearing beneath an old jumper as he did so. Fighting the sudden, delicious urge to see the rest of the now concealed artwork he reached for the door handle and turned, if possible, an even deeper shade of red.

"Erm," he began, "I think this may be –"

Amelia snatched the offending item and hid it behind her.

Finding that he couldn't quite look up at her, he stuttered, "Um, yes, well…" and fled after another painfully awkward silence, leaving Amelia stood alone in her room wearing naught but a jumper and a pair of (reasonably frilly) knickers. With a feeling of resignation, she sat down on her bed, placing the offending (also reasonably frilly) item down beside her and swore quietly.

Then, carefully avoiding the glare of the sun from the window she placed her hands either side of her head and collapsed gently onto her bed as last night's rum caught up with her once more.

0o0o0o0

Sometime later, Hermione was sat at one end of the now-lonely Christmas table, picking at her lunch. She was largely being ignored by her two 'best friends' so she periodically glanced up at her teachers. Much to her amusement, many of them were wearing items of Amelia's knitwear – including Snape, who to her surprise afforded her a stiff nod. Her interest, and that of the Potion's Master, was piqued when her cousin entered and blearily sat down next to her; she appeared to be struggling to remain awake.

"Long night?" she asked, unable to stop herself.

Amelia turned to her cousin and glared, grimacing at the fireworks that this action set off behind her eyeballs. Hermione chuckled into her lasagne while Amelia proceeded to glare at her plate until food appeared. Still highly amused by her cousin's plight she caught Professor McGonagall's eye and both women fought off a smirk.

Amelia perked up a little after eating, even managing vague conversation. She, Madame Pomfrey and Hermione were discussing the evolutionary advantages of eyebrows when the door opened once more to admit a rather battered looking Remus Lupin.

Amelia felt herself colour slightly as curious pairs of eyes flicked between herself and the obviously hung-over professor; she slid down in her chair and returned to glaring at her pudding, grateful that the minimal number of students were currently present.

Hermione's mouth twitched as she watched Professor Lupin gingerly lower himself into a seat beside Harry, wincing as the boy wished him a good afternoon. She decided to strike up a conversation with Madame Pomfrey over Amelia's head as her cousin appeared to have entirely lost her vocabulary and sunk another few inches.

As the occupants of the table began the befuddled wandering that always follows a good meal, Hermione noticed Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall in conversation with one another; to her curiosity and mild alarm they each glanced at Professor Lupin and Amelia before exchanging a meaningful look. As they were each led aside by their superiors she shared an altogether more perturbed look with Professor Snape before reluctantly leaving the Great Hall and heading for the Library.

Feeling frazzled and altogether put-upon, Amelia allowed Minerva to lead her to a corner of the Great Hall, where the older witch appraised her colleague.

"You're in love," she stated, simply.

Amelia, who had been expecting a dressing down for her altogether too obvious hangover, simply stared at her.

"Come again?"

"I don't know what's happened, or precisely why you and young Remus are now completely unable to look at one another without blushing, but this sort of thing has got to stop. It's rather letting the side down I'm afraid," she continued, sternly.

Amelia grimaced, she wasn't at all sure that she liked where this conversation was heading.

"I'm afraid I shall have to put my foot down, Miss Brown. This sort of behaviour is entirely inappropriate in front of the students."

Amelia had become certain that the grimace she was currently wearing was in imminent danger of making her face implode.

"So stop dithering and kiss the man, there's a good lass," Minerva finished.

Amelia felt her face slacken with shock as she ran that last sentence through her head a few times; she blinked at the Deputy Headmistress, as if hoping that this would help.

She smiled, and said more gently, "Seriously though, I've known Remus since he was a boy here and I can honestly say that I've never met a kinder or more lonely man. You make him smile more than he has done in years, you know, and you're obviously happier around him." She looked her colleague up and down and added, "So get on with it!" before sweeping out of the Great Hall.

Amelia, who realised that her mouth had been hanging open for some time now, closed it abruptly, and began to make her way back across to the table, where she'd left her jumper. As she turned back towards the door, she came face to frightened face with Remus, who had himself just escaped an equally astonishing conversation at the opposite end of the room.

They froze momentarily, before hurrying on their way, both an attractive shade of red and staring at the floor with absorbing interest.

Had Remus been paying attention, he would have seen Filius shake his head in an exasperated fashion and pass a galleon to a triumphant Pomona. Had Amelia been paying attention, she would have heard the muffled giggles of her Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress who were hiding just outside the door of the Great Hall and shaking with mirth.

Severus, who had followed Amelia out of the Great Hall, and who was feeling a great deal more observant, rolled his eyes at his senior colleagues.

"You really do enjoy fucking with people, don't you," he announced to the corridor at large before proceeding towards the entrance to the Dungeons. The laughter followed him all the way to his office, where he allowed himself a smirk; it had been pretty funny.

0o0o0o0

By the time Amelia reached her rooms (thanks to taking the scenic route) there was a small bottle of hangover cure alongside a note from Severus.

"_The trick is to not let it touch the sides – S."_

Taking this advice to heart, she downed the bottle in one, and almost immediately regretted it as her insides turned to fire. After an unpleasant few minutes she felt well enough to drag herself to the windowseat, in order to feel sorry for herself at a new elevation.

0o0

Remus was equally surprised to find an identical bottle several floors below; this note read:

"_Don't imagine that this means that we're friends – S."_

Having previously experienced this particular cure he made sure that a jug of water was nearby before downing the vial.

Feeling a great deal better he leant against the mantelpiece and warmed his hands. As he lost himself to his thoughts his treacherous mind wandered to the evening before and the feel of a creamy waist and hip beneath his sleeping hands. Blushing, he shook his head; he was relatively certain that nothing much had happened.

_Other than waking up mostly naked next to a beautiful woman?_ His mind (he suspected the Wolf) supplied. _A beautiful woman who didn't object to your hand being on that creamy waist… a beautiful woman who wouldn't object if that hand –_

Frantically, he cast around for something else to think about, but his mind kept returning to that intriguing tattoo, and what it would feel like to trace it with his fingers…

Suddenly the recent and entirely unnerving conversation that he'd had with Dumbledore sprung irritatingly to mind:

"Just get on with it lad, she's clearly interested. You're letting the side down!"

He was attempting not to dwell on the downright lecherous look the older wizard had given him when providence provided relief in the form of a diminutive Charms professor.

Filius asked if he would be joining the traditional post-Christmas staff snowball fight and Remus agreed, much more quickly and emphatically than he had intended.

0o0

Finally managing to quench the flames in her stomach, Amelia too found herself being dragged out into the Grounds for a spot of winter cheer. Once the first snowball had been thrown, she really began to enjoy herself; there were no discernable teams, as in all good snowball fights, and magic had been forbidden. She had just finished pelting Hagrid with an expertly aimed volley and was turning her attention towards Severus (who was perpetrating a sneak attack on Poppy from behind a tree) when she heard someone come up behind her.

As she spun around to face her attacker a stray missile from the flurry that was Pomona and Dumbledore caught her off balance and she fell into her mysterious assailant. Together, they tumbled down the side of a small hill and came to rest in a snow drift at its base.

Shaking the snow out of her face Amelia realised that she was pinned into the drift by a laughing and out of breath Remus. She laughed too, all awkwardness forgot, until it dawned on her that Remus's nose was just inches from her own; the same thought had apparently occurred to him, as his laughter diminished and he leant in to kiss his lover.

At that precise moment, however, a stray snowball arced over their heads and embedded itself into the snow beside them. Remus stood, swiftly helping Amelia up from her prone and snow-drenched position as Poppy and Severus crested the hill.

"You alright?" Poppy called down as Amelia attempted to shake the snow out of her hair. Severus smirked down at them, and Amelia glared back.

"No harm done," Remus called back. Poppy nodded and dragged Severus back to the game.

Remus gave her a slight smile before they struggled up the hill together to rejoin the fray.

0o0

A good few hours (and icy coups) later, the staff of the foremost school of witchcraft and wizardry strode back into the castle and out of the darkening grounds, frozen but very chirpy.

Abandoning the others to Filch's grumbling about wet floors, Amelia headed up towards her rooms, chattering happily with Remus, who seemed to have forgotten that he was following her.

Shivering slightly, Remus made two steaming mugs of hot chocolate and placed them on the mantle, taking the opportunity to warm up a little by the fire. Amelia returned with an armful of clothes and towels, which she handed to her friend.

"They're old digging clothes from Uni', they should fit you." She looked at him, head tilted, "most of them are men's anyway." Pausing to take in his expression, she continued, "that is, if you want to stay for a bit – I mean, you don't have to leave if you don't –"

Amelia was pleasantly startled to discover that he'd reached out and placed a gentle hand on her arm.

"Thank you," he said, quietly. "You seem to have a knack for making people – for making _me_ feel right at home."

She could feel his thumb rubbing her shoulder through her sodden jumper. They looked at one another, blue eyes to grey, and felt the moment begin to stretch out forever. Gently, he leant into her and brushed his lips against hers; his lips felt dry, chapped against her own. His eyes fluttered closed as she tenderly nibbled at his lips, her hands winding their way up his back and tangling in his hair. His hands, which had been gripping her arms, slid down her sides and came to rest on her waist and back; she moaned into his mouth as he deepened their kiss, tasting the inexplicable sweetness of her tongue as she explored his mouth with equal fervour. The heat between them was delicious and the second moan that reverberated through his body forced him to firmly grip that wonderful arse and pull her still closer.

Somehow, her fingers had found their way up through the layers of snow-soaked jumper and onto his bare skin and she was running them up and down his spine, taunting, teasing. They broke apart then, his hands also having found a way inside her clothes, as they grappled with one another's sodden clothing; jumpers discarded he paused to take her in. Her skin was creamier even than he dimly recalled from the evening before, sheer perfection; he was aware that she was in turn appraising him. For a moment he was struck by the overwhelming need to flee before she realised how defective he was compared to her, but she stepped closer to him and began to trace his scars with her beautiful hands.

"So many…" she said, looking up at him, not with pity or disgust, as he'd been dreading, but with love. Her fingers came to rest above his heart and she felt its thudding beat; pulling him to her she kissed him tenderly, then took his hand gently in hers and led him to her bedroom. As she turned to close the door he caught sight once more of that intricate design that graced the area between her sacral dimples and was caught by the sudden urge to trace its pattern.

Amelia was about to turn back to him when she felt those long fingers begin to trace intricate circles on her back, sending delicious shivers through her body, his breath hot on her neck. Tantalisingly he slid his fingers up to her bra, slowly undoing the clasp and lightly cupping her breasts; she leaned back against him as he nibbled along her neck, causing her to gasp.

It was this small noise that did for him, really. Turning her around, he pushed her against the door, the wood cool at her back, and crushed his lips against hers. She matched his need grope for grope and moan for moan, pressing against him and sliding her leg up against him. She could feel him harden against her as she kissed his neck and jaw.

"Beautiful," he whispered into her ear as his lips passed by, melting her with the lightest of touches.

They made quick work of one another's remaining clothes as he carried her to the bed, laying her down with a growl. It occurred to Amelia as he trailed kisses like butterflies across her stomach, that she'd never heard anything so damned sexy in her entire life.

0o0o0o0

It was a good deal later that either of them considered the abandoned mugs atop the fireplace; Remus watched her from the door as she moved around her rooms, firelight lending an exquisite glow to her naked body.

"What?" she asked, walking back to her lover with refilled mugs.

"Just looking," he said, putting his mug down and pulling her back into his embrace. "I was thinking how bloody lucky I am that I got to see that tattoo."

Amelia laughed into his chest, "that's a hangover from my roadie days."

"I imagine you were quite the wild child," he grinned.

She gave him the kind of smile that made his knees weak.

"Stick around and you just might see how wild…"


	13. Some Really Happy Memories

It had been nearly a week since Christmas and still Harry and Ron were ignoring Hermione. This was really beginning to annoy Amelia, who had thought better of them, and she said as much to Severus as they relaxed in the Dungeons that Thursday.

"Well, you are aware of my opinion of the boys," he said, reaching for the wine. He took in her exasperated expression and quickly continued, "However, I'm sure that they're good sports under that rough, boyish exterior," in a rather flat tone.

Amelia rolled her eyes.

"It's just a bloody broomstick, and Hermione's right, it could have been sent by Black."

"Sirius Black?" he asked, surprised, practically spitting the name.

"How many mass murderers out for Potter's blood can you think of?" She looked at his expression, "you don't count."

Severus nodded thoughtfully.

"I knew him, you know, Black."

Amelia looked at him; his outward expression hadn't changed, but the atmosphere had altered quite subtly – she wondered whether her talents had passed beyond tactile with her odd friend. She made a mental note never to play poker with this man. Severus was staring at the wall, speculatively.

"He was an intelligent bastard," he said, with feeling. "Always finding inventive new ways to torture those he considered beneath him."

"Sounds like you speak from experience," she said, carefully; while not wishing to pry she was well aware that Severus seldom let his guard down this much.

"We… never saw eye to eye," he said quietly. "He and James Potter found public humiliation a source of particular delight," he continued, bitterly.

Amelia frowned: Remus's description of James Potter was a good deal kinder than Severus's. Taking pity on her friend, she attempted empathy.

"Everyone gets the crap kicked out of them at school."

"What? Oh, yes…" He appeared to have been lost in unpleasant reminiscences. "You said Miss Granger thought Black could have sent the broom?"

"Yeah," she replied. "There was no note with it, and none of us could think of anyone he knows who would or could do that for him. Firebolts cost the earth you know."

"It's the kind of rat-bastard trick he'd think of – sending the boy something he's bound to use, and let's face it, no Potter is going to pass up the opportunity to play quidditch on a top notch broom."

Amelia nodded, "How would he know, though? I mean I know he's famous, but it isn't common knowledge that Harry's a quidditch nut – or incautious enough to take up an anonymous broom."

Severus considered this for a moment, before musing: "Except by those inside the school."

The two Professors were quiet for a moment.

"Well that's a chilling prospect," said Amelia unhappily. "I mean I kind of figured he was trying to stay nearby, but the thought of him inside the castle…"

"Or one of our colleagues is helping him in," said Severus, nodding gravely.

Amelia, who had been sipping her wine, very nearly spat it all over him.

"Who would _do_ that?" she demanded.

Oddly, Severus didn't seem to be able to meet her eyes; slowly he shook his head. She was about to press him further when they were interrupted by a tentative knock. Amelia was secretly impressed by the speed at which the wine bottle was concealed.

"Come," called Snape, glad of the interruption. "Ah, Mr Zabini, what can I do for you?"

As the young Slytherin began his tale of woe (largely surrounding a lost essay for Professor Sprout) Amelia left them to it, feeling that eavesdropping on so obvious a scale would be downright rude.

Severus watched her go, only half listening to the hapless boy before him. Silently he thought that if he'd voiced his suspicions their friendship would be over once again; _she'd never believe me, anyway._

0o0

The feeling of unease brought about by Severus's speculation followed Amelia around like a murky cloud. She found herself snapping at students in the corridor and growling at even the most polite intrusion into her thoughts. The afternoon class with the fifth years was a particular disaster, Fred and George's usual exuberance resulting in a detention (and a narrowly avoided hex as they sped from the classroom); it was as if the students were deliberately playing up to her mood.

At dinner, she sat at the very end of the staff table and avoided conversation, much to the confusion of her colleagues. Each of them fell under her scrutiny as she tried to imagine them passing information to a man intent on murdering one of their charges.

They only one that she could even vaguely consider was Hagrid, who she knew would talk uninhibited after a pint or two – but he'd never hurt Harry, and would presumably have known Black well enough to recognise his face.

So engrossed was she in this deconstruction of her colleagues that she entirely failed to notice Remus approaching her as she left the Great Hall, and left him peering after her looking rather crestfallen.

0o0o0o0

Lupin wasn't having a particularly good day himself, still tired and drawn from his last transformation he was finding engaging his students trickier than usual. Naturally, he'd assumed that Amelia's dismissive behaviour was a sign of the inevitable end of their relationship; although he'd been expecting it he couldn't shake off the deep ache of sadness that this assumption produced.

So it was that he arrived in the History of Magic classroom to begin Harry's extra Defence lessons in something of a sombre mood. Harry seemed to be in fairly good spirits, though Lupin suspected that he was trying to hide his nervousness behind joviality, just as his father had.

He heaved the packing case containing the Boggart onto Professor Binns' desk and rather nastily thought that if he left it here his old tutor wouldn't notice.

"What's that?" said Harry.

"Another Boggart," said Lupin, stripping off his cloak. "I've been combing the castle ever since Tuesday, and very luckily, I found this one lurking inside Mr Filch's filing cabinet. It's the nearest we'll get to a real Dementor. The Boggart will turn into a Dementor when he sees you, so we'll be able to practise on him. I can store him in my office when we're not using him; there's a cupboard under my desk he'll like."

"Ok," said Harry, trying to sound as though he wasn't apprehensive at all and merely glad that Lupin had found such a good substitute for a real Dementor.

Lupin smiled to himself, Harry's forced bravado was making him feel like he was back with the Marauders again.

"So", he said, taking out his wand and giving Harry an encouraging nod. "The spell I am going to try and teach you is highly advanced magic, Harry – well beyond Ordinary Wizarding Level. It is called the Patronus Charm."

"How does it work?" said Harry nervously.

"Well, when it works correctly, it conjures up a Patronus," said Lupin, "which is a kind of anti-Dementor – a guardian which acts as a shield between you and the Dementor."

Watching Harry suppress a smile, he continued. "The Patronus is a kind of positive force, a projection of the very things that the Dementor feeds upon – hope, happiness, the desire to survive – but it cannot feel despair, as real humans can, so the Dementors can't hurt it. But I must warn you, Harry, that the Charm might be too advanced for you. Many qualified wizards have difficulty with it."

"What does a Patronus look like?" said Harry curiously.

"Each one is unique to the wizard who conjures it."

"And how do you conjure it?"

"With an incantation, which will work only if you are concentrating, with all your might, on a single very happy memory."

He paused to allow the boy to think, wishing that the boy could have shared some of the Marauder's antics with his father.

"Right," he said, clearly trying to sound braver than he felt.

"The incantation is this –" Lupin cleared his throat, "_expecto patronum!_"

"_Expecto patronum,_" Harry repeated under his breath, "_expecto patronum_."

"Concentrating hard on your happy memory?

"Oh – yeah –" said Harry. "_Expecto patrono_ – no – _patronum_ – sorry – _expecto patronum, expecto patronum –_"

Something whooshed suddenly out of the end of his wand; it looked like a wisp of silvery gas.

"Did you see that?" said Harry excitedly. "Something happened!"

"Very good," said Lupin, smiling. "Right then – ready to try it on a Dementor?"

"Yes," Harry said, gripping his wand tightly and moving into the middle of the classroom. The silvery wisp had been promising, although currently Harry looked as if he were trying not to be sick.

Lupin grasped the lid of the packing case and pulled.

A Dementor rose slowly from the box, its hooded face turned towards Harry, one glistening, scabbed hand grasping its cloak. The lamps around the classroom flickered and went out. The Dementor stepped from the box and started to sweep silently towards Harry, drawing a deep, rattling breath.

"_Expecto patronum!_" Harry yelled. "_Expecto patronum! Expecto_ –"

He realised too late that Harry was losing consciousness; swiftly he trapped the Boggart back in the trunk and moved to the younger wizard's side. Harry appeared to be gasping for air; his eyes were screwed up and his skin pale.

"Harry!" For a fleeting moment he was afraid he'd killed his best friend's son, but then Harry opened his eyes. Sitting up, he looked rather sheepish.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"Are you all right?" he asked, somewhat relieved.

"Yes…" Harry pulled himself up on one of the desks and leant against it.

"Here –" Lupin handed him a chocolate frog. "Eat this before we try again. I didn't expect you to do it first time. In fact, I would have been astounded if you had."

"It's getting worse," Harry muttered, biting the Frog's head off. "I could hear her louder this time – and him – Voldemort –"

Remus felt himself blanch. The thought of Lily Evans begging before that son of a bitch made him shudder.

"Harry, if you don't want to continue, I will more than understand –"

"I do!" said Harry fiercely, stuffing the rest of the Chocolate Frog into his mouth. "I've got to! What if the Dementors turn up at our match against Ravenclaw? I can't afford to fall off again. If we lose this game we've lost the Quidditch Cup!"

"All right then…" said Lupin. "You might want to select another memory, a happy memory, I mean, to concentrate on… that one doesn't seem to have been strong enough…"

There was a pause while Harry considered his choice.

"Ready?" said Lupin, gripping the box lid.

"Ready," said Harry, firmly.

"Go!" said Lupin, pulling off the lid. The room went icily cold and dark once more. The Dementor glided forwards, drawing its rattly breath; one rotting hand was extending towards Harry –

"Expecto patronum!" Harry yelled. "Expecto patronum! Expecto pat–"

Again Remus rushed to Harry's side, full of concern.

"Harry! Harry… wake up…"

He tapped Harry hard on the face. This time it was a full minute before Harry understood why he was lying on a dusty classroom floor. In the back of his mind, Remus made another mental note to speak to the house elves about their inability to clean floors.

"I heard my Dad," Harry mumbled. "That's the first time I've ever heard him – he tried to take on Voldemort himself, to give my Mum time to run for it…"

Through the shock of that statement, Remus noticed tears on the boy's face, tears that even now he was trying to hide. It seemed suddenly that it was impossible to breathe. He'd always assumed that they'd died together, side by side in death as they had been in life, though of course he'd heard from others who'd found the young family of their ruined state.

To hear that they'd died alone, terrified, nauseated him.

He heard his own voice ask, "You heard James?" though it didn't really sound like him.

"Yeah…" Face dry, Harry looked up. "Why – you didn't know my Dad, did you?"

"I – I did, as a matter of fact," he managed. "We were friends at Hogwarts." Privately, he reflected that it would be just like James, so brave and sometimes so foolish, to try to save his wife and child… and just like Lily to try anything she could to protect her son. Her face snapped to his memory, laughing at the antics of the Marauders in the Common Room, the two of them trying to appear aloof as they felt good prefects should.

He swallowed.

"Listen, Harry – perhaps we should leave it here for tonight. This charm is ridiculously advanced… I shouldn't have suggested you through this…"

"No!" said Harry. He got up again. "I'll have one more go! I'm not thinking of happy enough things, that's what it is… hang on…"

Again he waited. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to hear his friends die; over and over. He was about to tell Harry that they should call it a night when the boy turned back to the packing case, face set. Against his better judgement (and perhaps to satisfy the James-like Marauder instinct at the back of his mind), he pulled off the lid.

The Dementor rose up once more, sucking the light and warmth from the room.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Harry bellowed. "EXPECTO PATRONUM! EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

To Lupin's amazement and pride a huge, silver shadow came bursting out of the end of Harry's wand, to hover between him and the Dementor… Harry was still on his feet.

"Riddikulus!" roared Lupin, springing forwards.

There was a loud crack, and Harry's cloudy Patronus vanished along with the Dementor; he sank into a chair, looking drained.

Having subdued the now lunar Boggart for a third time he strode over to the boy.

"Excellent! Excellent Harry, that was definitely a start!"

"Can we have another go? Just one more go?"

"Not now," said Lupin firmly. "You've had enough for one night. Here –"

He handed Harry a large bar of Honeydukes' best chocolate.

"Eat the lot, or Madam Pomfrey will be after my blood. Same time next week?"

"Ok," said Harry.

Remus began to clear away the debris of the lesson and extinguished the lamps, musing once more on his old friends; Harry called him back to the present.

"Professor Lupin?" he said. "If you knew my Dad, you must've known Sirius Black as well."

He turned, sharply.

"What gives you that idea?" he said sharply.

"Nothing – I mean, I just knew they were friends at Hogwarts too…"

Remus relaxed, the fleeting terror of being called 'accomplice' leaving him.

"Yes, I knew him," he said shortly. "Or I thought I did. You'd better get off, Harry, it's getting late."

He watched him leave the classroom and found that he was sad not to know this fierce young boy as well as he should. Collecting the packing trunk he set off to his own office, haunted by the echoes of laughter, long since ended. As he stowed the Boggart under his desk he allowed himself to wonder, briefly, what his and Harry's lives would have been, had circumstances been different…

He and Lily would have taught the boy to read and be studious, of course, and he would have had his mother's kindness – some of which he thought that he could see in him now. From James he would have inherited that arrogance so little of which he seemed to possess, along with that talent for trouble that Harry had definitely received. And from Sirius? He paused: thinking of his old friend cost him.

Sirius would have taught him to laugh, countless pranks with which to irritate his teachers and (the non-evil Sirius) his bizarre sense of honour. Despite everything, Remus smirked. He'd probably have taught him every unsavoury word under the sun by the time he was four.

But it was pointless, really, to think of all those lost chances now.

_They're dead_, he told himself sternly. _They all are, and dreaming of them won't change that_.

Angrily, he brushed away a tear and crossed into his bedroom; he suspected that Amelia would be happier without him tonight. In this he was most definitely mistaken.

0o0o0o0

She'd spent a miserable half hour bumming around her rooms, making a half-arsed attempt at tidying up before giving in and just stomping around listlessly. As time crept forward she began to notice her loneliness; childishly, she got ready for bed, becoming increasingly annoyed with Remus for not coming to check on her. _Surely he must know she was upset!_

Finally succumbing to her own impatience she wrapped her blanket around her pyjamas and stormed towards Remus's rooms, banging on the door.

Too annoyed to wait when there was no response, she opened the door and went in. Expecting to find her lover selfishly marking homework or writing up a lesson plan, but instead the lamps were out in the main room. Mildly concerned, she moved towards his bedroom. She could see lamplight spilling out from under the door; her irritation was ebbing away with each step. Gently, she pushed the door open and found him curled up on the floor with an old photograph album beside him.

As he looked up at her it was clear that he'd been crying.

He also looked confused to see her.

Foul temper gone, she moved to sit with him, quietly wrapping the other half of her blanket around him and feeling thoroughly ashamed of her earlier childishness. _She_ should have known that _he_ needed her.

For this part, Remus was so certain that he had somehow fallen asleep and that Amelia was a part of a bittersweet dream, that he hardly dared to touch her, lest he should wake and find himself alone once more.

Not meeting his gaze, she gently took his hand in her own, lacing their fingers together firmly.

She felt him shiver against her, but as he didn't try to pull away she moved to put her arm around him. He was cold to the touch.

Wearily, he rested his head against the shoulders of a dream.

"I was remembering them," he said, voice hoarse from sorrow, gesturing towards the album in front of him. Amelia tightened her grip on his shoulder.

"I had my first tutorial with Harry this evening, and he told me that when he's near the Dementors he hears Lil' dying – and James too, tonight."

"Oh, Remus, I should have come up earlier." Close as they had become, she couldn't help feeling that now she was here she was intruding on something private.

"He faced Voldemort alone, trying to give Lil' and Harry time to escape – Lily begged for her son's life…" He took a deep breath, "and I can't help thinking that I could have stopped it. If I'd just seen through that _bastard's_ lies!" he sobbed, dryly.

Her heart broke for this quiet, lonely man that had found his way into her life.

"How could you have? Even Dumbledore was fooled." Amelia rubbed his arm in what she hoped was a comforting fashion.

"But _I_ shouldn't have been! I'd known him since I was a boy!" he cried, hotly, desperately pulling away from her. "We stood together as brothers, so many times! And to think, while we were planning James's stag party or Harry's first birthday he was quietly selling us all out – and himself!"

Remus was on his feet now, pacing agitatedly around the bedroom. "I would have died for him!" his voice cracked, "I would have died…" he looked at her helplessly, hopelessly, "just for one more hour of their company. For Harry to have grown up loved."

She went to him then and held him until he stopped shaking; carefully she led him to the bed, where she sat beside him, not letting go.

"Do you know that Harry told me the happiest thing he could think of for our session earlier was leaving his aunt and uncle? From his whole life… Sirius and I," and here his voice threatened to crack once more. "Sirius and I were appointed his guardians – though I wasn't officially named. If it hadn't been for my damned condition I could have taken them away from him."

Amelia, not for the first time, couldn't think of a single thing to say.

"And now, to make things worse," he concluded, looking up at her, weary defeat etched on his young face, "you've finally realised that a life with me is no life at all."

He reached up and stroked her cheek, sadly. "I don't blame you."

If he had thought it were a dream until now, Remus was swiftly disabused of this notion as she smacked him, relatively gently, around the back of his head.

"Ow!"

"Well, don't be so bloody stupid then. I'm not going anywhere."

He stared at her, flabbergasted, one hand nursing his head.

"B-but at dinner –" he managed.

Amelia looked sheepish.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that… I was in a foul temper."

"You mean, we're not… finished?"

She shook her head quietly. "Not unless that's what you want…"

"No, far from it!" it was Remus's turn to look sheepish, though he also looked relieved.

"I'm glad," she said, smiling a little. "Now I think you'd better get ready for bed."

About to protest and reluctant to have her leave so soon he half stood, before she waved him back down.

"I realise that I have no right to issue orders, but issuing them I am. You get cleaned up and I'll fetch us some supper."

A little surprised (and more surprised that he didn't object) he nodded his assent and did what he was told as she departed, presumably to the kitchens.

Lifting the album to the bed he couldn't help but imagine the responses of his old friends. To his surprise, his earlier bitterness had left him and he allowed himself a small smile as his mind supplied the voices of his long-time confidantes.

Behind him a half-imagined Peter sniggered while Sirius (the non-evil one) leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a smirk resting on his handsome features.

"Looks like Moony here's on a short leash," he remarked, looking over to James (who would, Remus knew, be sat in his armchair, Lily on his lap).

His smile grew a little, and he said, without turning, "I really like her guys, and for some reason she likes me."

From the doorway, Sirius scoffed and exclaimed, "Of course she likes you Moons, you're a Marauder!"

"Hear, hear!" cried Peter, cheerfully.

"That I am," he said quietly, chuckling a little. Then he sighed, and said, "And I know that if I turn around, you'll be gone… I know that." He turned then and stared sadly and wistfully at the places where his friends should have been, empty once more.

"I know that, but I am not resigned," he said aloud, sadly.

"Quoting poetry?" Amelia asked, returning with a tray of chocolate themed goodness.

"Not that I knew," he replied, smiling. "I thought you said supper, not a feast?" he added playfully.

"You looked like you needed it," she smiled, placing the tray on the bed next to the album.

He brushed a strand of hair tenderly out of her eyes.

"Thank you," he said, gently.

"What for?" she asked, head to one side and pulled him into a hug. Muffled by his jumper he heard her mumble, "daft sod."

After a time they curled up together on the bed with a substantial slab of chocolate cake apiece, mugs of hot tea steaming on either side.

"What poem was it, out of interest?" Remus asked, having swallowed a particularly good morsel of cake.

"Hmmm?" Amelia asked, mouth full of fudge, "Oh." She swallowed, "Just this poem by Edna St Vincent Millay, seemed appropriate."

"I've not heard of her…" he said, drowsily.

"She's a bit obscure; good though."

"How's it go?"

"Erm, let's see:

0

"_Dirge Without Music_

_I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground._

_So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:_

_Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned with lilies and with laurel they go: but I am not resigned._

_0_

_Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you._

_Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust._

_A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,_

_A formula, a phrase remains – but the best is lost._

_0_

_The answers quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love –_

_They are gone. They are gone to feed the roses._

_Elegant and curled_

_Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not approve._

_More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world._

_0_

_Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave._

_Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;_

_Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave._

_I know, but I do not approve._

_And I am not resigned."_

_0_

She finished the poem sadly, thinking of her own family.

Remus nodded, "Sometimes poetry can speak more aptly than our own tired brains."

They finished their supper quietly, each lost in their own thoughts; then:

"Why were you in such a bad mood earlier?"

"Oh, it was just something Severus said."

Protective anger coursed through him and he reached out to her, reverting, for a moment, to his teenaged self, and he snarled, "_If that filthy, jumped up snake said anything_ –"

"Oy! Settle down!" Amelia started, surprised by both his vehemence and his odd turn of phrase. "He didn't say anything unpleasant. Well he did, but –" she hastened to placate her lover, who was once more bristling with anger, "it wasn't an insult or anything like that."

Remus was still frowning and the furrows in his brow deepened.

"Then what was it?" he asked, a little confused. Amelia closed her eyes briefly, she'd have much preferred to stay away from any subject that might cause Remus to dwell on his friend's betrayal.

"It's just, we were considering how much Black seems to know about Harry – his habits, hobbies and so on."

Lupin shook his head slowly, not liking where this train of thought was heading.

"… and Severus suggested that someone in the castle could be passing information to him. I spent the day thinking the very worst of everyone… except you," she finished, shuffling closer to him.

"You do know that I'd be the most likely candidate to fall under Severus's suspicion, as Black's old friend?" he asked, all in a rush; it was as if he were afraid that he would be unable to continue if he were to pause.

"I know that, and that would be why he couldn't look at me when he suggested it. But you and I both know that you couldn't hurt Harry," she hesitated, a little reluctant to continue. "…and I can feel how strongly you hate what Black became."

Remus agreed, quietly.

"Yes. When he betrayed us, Sirius died – there is nothing of the man I once called brother in him how."

0o0

As she was drifting off, safe in Remus's arms, she could have sworn she saw figures around the doorway and settled in the old armchair under the window; there was the sound of distant laughter. One of the shadows stepped closer and leaned towards her, before pushing his glasses back up his nose and patting her lightly on the shoulder.

"Take care of him for us," he said and turning, took the hand of the woman behind him; together, with the two other shadows, they left the room. Amelia slipped into a deep and contented sleep, where her dreams were all sunshine and stories and bright laughter.

0o0

Remus woke early with a smile on his lips. He'd dreamed that they'd walked in a green forest, sharing laughter and stories with his old friends; Harry and his friends had been there, along with a few people he didn't recognise but who Amelia and Hermione seemed to know. Harry and Ron had played an impromptu Quidditch match with James and Sirius, much to the older wizards' delight.

He looked at Amelia, still sleeping peacefully beside him with her hand in his, and watched her dream for a while. It occurred to him that if he should be required to produce a Patronus at this moment it would be the best and strongest charm that he could ever have cast.


	14. Mischief

**Chapter 14 – Mischief**

Friday evening was spent in what might have been the most interminable staff meeting in the history of the universe, at the end of which Amelia headed off in search of her cousin and Remus decided to accompany Hagrid to the Three Broomsticks for a bit of a wind down.

They spent a pleasant half hour discussing the merits of a Dragon breeding program that had recently begun in Wales, before Hagrid wandered off to talk with some friends at the bar and left Remus alone with his drink. The pub was by this point packed with local witches and wizards, so it wasn't long before Remus's thoughts were intruded upon by another drinker.

"May I join you?" Severus asked, with little enthusiasm. "Everywhere else is taken."

Remus, less than thrilled himself, nodded curtly and eyed up his drink; he could probably be out of there in twenty minutes if he drank relatively quickly – though not quick enough to appear impolite. Twenty minutes of silent brooding across from Severus Snape didn't really appeal… _perhaps I could down it…_ he thought, with little hope. Though he'd always been able to keep up with James and Sirius, he tended to end up in truly bizarre situations when he drank heavily.

Unbidden, memories of waking up in a fountain after James's stag party bubbled to the surface; he'd never been able to remember the previous evening in full detail, but he was relatively certain that singing on tables and doing some ridiculous rock dance with Sirius had been involved. James, of course, was suitable attired in nothing but a tutu and had taken great pleasure in scaring passers by – until they'd managed, somehow, to pilot him back to the house that he and his bride-to-be had shared; he vaguely remembered he and Sirius taking one look at Lily's expression and running like hell, leaving a drunken James and bewildered Peter to face her wrath.

Peter had woken up with a giant orange traffic cone on his head.

It had apparently been a very good night.

He came reluctantly back to the present; Snape was still staring moodily into his drink. Lupin glanced again at his own drink before giving up and breaking the silence.

"I meant to thank you, by the way, for that hangover cure at Christmas."

Snape shrugged.

"It was nothing, I merely wished to pelt you with snow that afternoon," he sneered, though there was a twinkle in his dark eyes. Remus smiled, despite himself; perhaps he was about to see what Amelia saw in the strange Slytherin professor.

"Well, anyway, thanks," he paused. "…and thank you for taking care of Amelia at Christmas, she really needed it."

"Well she is my friend too, you know." Snape retorted angrily, stung.

"I know," said Lupin quietly.

They regarded one another for a moment, enmity bubbling just beneath the surface; then, abruptly, Severus sagged a little.

"Look I really can't be arsed to argue tonight. Do you mind if we just forget all that Gryffindor – Slytherin crap for a bit and just have a drink?" he asked, a little wearily.

Surprised, but not altogether opposed to the idea Remus agreed and nodded to the bar-elf to bring them another round.

"I think it must have been that blasted meeting – sapped all our strength."

Severus cracked a smile.

"They do rather go on, don't they? You know I've often had bets with Pomona on who'll fall asleep first."

Remus laughed, "I bet it's usually Binns."

"True – we had to disqualify him from the running, it was too easy!" Severus agreed, also laughing.

They lapsed into a companionable silence for a while as their third round of drinks arrived. It struck Remus that he'd never heard Severus laugh before, except cruelly.

"Look Lupin, I really should apologise for that stunt I pulled at the start of term – it was childish and stupid. I am sorry." It was apparently a night for firsts then.

Remus shook his head.

"No harm done. I suppose I should apologise for the Boggart too – although I can't be entirely held responsible for Neville's terror of you."

Snape chuckled.

"He's actually improving in Potions, you know. Amelia talked me into 'cutting him some slack,' as she put it."

"She seems to be doing us both some good," Remus smiled.

Severus agreed, "She does. I haven't seen you this happy since school…" he trailed off, not wanting to bring up their uncomfortable past.

"I was rotten to you in school, Severus, and I'm sorry for that," Remus said sincerely.

Severus looked at him for a moment before sighing.

"I wasn't much better, once I knew your secret. You weren't as bad as the others though – and you did try to stop them – I was a little grateful for that," he admitted.

"I didn't always though, and I should know better than most what that felt like."

They were quiet for a time as they sipped their drinks; Remus realised fuzzily that he was on his fifth pint of cider. Severus didn't appear to be doing much better as he attempted to focus on his drinking companion; _Rosmerta serves _good_ cider,_ Remus thought blearily.

"It was all Potter's fault you know," he began, gesticulating with his cider. Remus wondered vaguely where this was going.

"If he hadn't so obviously fancied Lily then I wouldn't have started him an' Black off so frequently." He was beginning to slur.

Remus blinked at the drink in front of him and tried to force his brain to take in what he'd just heard Severus admit.

"You were in love with Lily!" he stated, suddenly understanding the years of unnecessary grief between Snape and the Marauders.

"Yes." Said Snape unhappily, "and as soon as you lot turned up she had eyes only for the four of you." He finished his drink and started on the next.

"You did call her a Mudblood," Remus offered, conversationally.

"I know, but I didn't mean it, not really. I was angry."

Remus nodded, thinking back to Lily; he'd never been able to continue being angry with her for long.

"I loved her too," he said, reaching for another cider. Snape looked up.

"What really?"

"Yeah," said Remus, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. "But she was always James's girl. You can't steal your best friend's girl…" _No matter how much you might want to… or how much she might encourage you._ He finished, privately. He thought back to a simpler time spent sharing apples in the grounds at sunset and blushed a little.

To their mutual surprise, Severus began to laugh, drunkenly.

"Look at ush," he said unsteadily, "hopelele- holep-." He stopped and concentrated: "hopelesh!" he finished triumphantly.

"Completely," Remus agreed, nodding vigorously.

"It was her eyes I think… sho green," Severus continued mournfully.

"And her smile."

"Her hair!"

"The way it changed in different lights!" Remus realised that he was nodding again and stopped.

They continued in this vein for some time before Hagrid returned to the table.

Hermione, sat reading with Amelia in her cousin's rooms, glanced out of the window at midnight to see what she would later describe as the funniest thing she could ever remember. She dropped her book with a thunk and pressed both hands against the cold window pane, as if to check she was still sane. Amelia, hearing the noise of leather on wood, joined her and together they watched the scene below, mouths open in disbelief.

In the snow on the castle grounds, three figures were weaving back and forth, singing loudly. As they watched, the one shaped like a Hagrid started to belt out the Scottish national anthem before being shushed in an over-dramatic manner by the two smaller figures. The Hagrid-shape waved them off and headed unsteadily towards his cottage, listing dangerously.

Snape and Lupin, because the starlight was clearly illuminating their features now, continued along the path below, supporting one another and singing what appeared to be a bawdy goblin ballad before the Snape-shaped shadow slid off Lupin's shoulders and into the snow, where Lupin, confused by the shift in weight, quickly joined him. Snape began to whoop in delight as he made a snow angel – he even stood and gave it a smiling face with vampire teeth – until Lupin jumped to his feet and yelled.

"TAG! YOU'RE IT!" and pelted off beneath an archway and out of sight, Snape hot on his heels. Lupin had somehow managed to find a traffic cone in Hogsmeade and was dragging it behind him happily.

The two cousins stared at one another for a moment in astonishment before they both collapsed, clutching their stomachs, neither one able to breath for laughing.

It was a sore and sheepish Severus who arrived in Amelia's rooms after lunch the following afternoon. He grimaced at Hermione in greeting, who was forced to hide her red faced grin behind a particularly large Arithmancy tome she was using to complete her coursework. Amelia completely trounced him at chess before he would even admit to his hangover, which apparently his potions hadn't been able to clear. About the same time Remus wandered in, looking equally shattered; he flopped down into a corner and picked up a book, glaring at its pages. It was a full minute before he realised he was trying to read it upside down.

Hermione, who had been doing quite well up to this point now had to run to the library so as not to laugh at her professors to their faces. Amelia rose and followed her cousin, not even bothering to hide her grin.

Remus, who had woken up in the Astronomy Tower clutching an entirely implausible traffic cone and not wearing very much glanced up at Severus, who shared a gloomy shrug.

"Do you think they saw us then?" Remus asked.

Severus, who had had a similar awakening in an entirely improbably position atop the statue of a hunchback in the Charms corridor, nodded unhappily. "Something tells me that Amelia won't let us live this one down."

As Hermione and Amelia had encountered Poppy and Pomona en route to the Library, he was not wrong.

Ravenclaw played Slytherin that very week. Slytherin won, though narrowly. This, according to the Weasley twins, Amelia's regular quidditch informants, was a good thing for Gryffindor, who could take second if they also beat Ravenclaw at the end of February.

Severus, of course, scoffed at the possibility of Gryffindor beating Slytherin; Amelia and Remus were almost certain that a large part of his reasons for vocalising this conviction was to irritate the crap out of Minerva, who had been winding him up about Sybill of late. Severus wasn't letting this get the better of him this term; since their drunken escapade (about which neither man would elaborate) he and Remus had become firm friends, which had effectively provided him with a second bolt-hole.

Lupin's first transformation of the year was spent in the company of both Amelia and Severus, who played a furious chess match before settling down for what Severus teasingly referred to as 'story-time'. By the end of the week they'd made their way through all three of the 'Space Captain Smith' series and had decided to move on to Sherri S Tepper's 'The Margarets'. Severus expressed mild surprise at enjoying science fiction so much as he usually preferred crime fiction.

Hermione remained a frequent visitor as her friends, of whom Amelia was beginning to despair, still hadn't forgiven her. She was clearly showing the strain of her insane workload and could often be found behind an enormous pile of textbooks in either Amelia's rooms, the Library, or – she suspected – the Gryffindor Common Room. The three teachers, recognising their younger selves in the girl, began to take turns in proof reading assignments, suggesting resources and giving advice – though they were careful to never offer help in their own subjects.

Severus had, to his own astonishment, begun to look forward to these impromptu study sessions and come to the conclusion that this, bizarre as it was, was the closest thing he'd ever had to a family. He was greatly touched by their including him, though of course, he'd never admit it.

Amelia used these study sessions to pick up bits she'd missed from mainstream schooling; at their next meeting, Minerva was impressed by her progress.

"As you appear to be getting on ok, are there any additional projects that you would like to look at?" she asked, over a cup of tea.

"Well, I remember Hermione telling me about Animagi last term, and I was wondering about giving it a go – you seemed the ideal person to ask about it."

Minerva, always happy to help those interested in her subject and more than a little curious as to how quickly the younger witch would be able to develop her skill, was eager to try. Following a lengthy discussion about procedure and a brief lecture on hard work, Amelia was loaded down with appropriate literature while Minerva wrote to the Ministry to apply for a practice license.

For Lupin, Amelia's interest in Animagi was another reason to continue falling for her, and he enlisted the aid of a grumbling but highly amused Severus to figure out a Valentines gift for her. The pair, with the help of an overly enthusiastic Pomona, managed to produce a miniature perpetual garden, complete with vegetable patch, waterfall, flowerbeds and a tiny clacking windmill. Filius helped them work charms that would allow the owner, with guests, to enter the garden to tend it and for a bit of rest and relaxation.

Amelia, naturally enough, was delighted with what she dubbed her 'pocket allotment' and took the earliest opportunity to build a tiny snowman in the middle of the garden. For her part, Amelia had knitted Remus a warm jumper as his was becoming rather worn, inside which he discovered a bar of Honeydukes' finest chocolate and an anthology of selected ancient manuscripts that had seen Amelia spend several days scouring the shelves of Flourish and Blotts. Enjoying their gifts together, they both felt that they were possibly the luckiest people on earth.

Severus, greatly entertained by their endearing relationship – though carefully to retain his customary sneer around them – provided something of an out of character Potions lesson for all his year groups. When Hermione delightedly filled Amelia and Remus in on it they congratulated him on his excellent pranking prowess, Remus remarking that he was unsurprised that Severus had managed to give the Marauders such an effective run for their money.

The class began like this: each pair of students were required to complete a potion suitable for their level from a list by the cauldron. The cauldrons which Severus had prepared would reward successful partners with lurid pink bat-shaped chocolates (provided by Poppy), while those unfortunate enough to fail were glued together for the rest of the day (courtesy of Filius). Hermione had been delighted to report that she and a very relieved Neville had successfully completed their potion, while Harry and Ron were still wandering the corridors somewhere because they'd been unable to get through the portrait-hole into the Gryffindor Common Room while still glued together.

Severus had received a brief dressing down from Dumbledore at the next staff meeting, followed by a round of applause from the staff while the headmaster pretended not to hear and twinkled at them from his armchair.

The staff were therefore greatly entertained for the better part of the week by running into increasingly desperate pairs of students trying a myriad of different spells to get unstuck; the teachers were gleefully maintaining a wall of uncooperativeness when asked to help. Hermione had been delighted to report that she and a very relieved Neville had successfully completed their potion, while Harry and Ron were still wandering the corridors somewhere because they'd been unable to get through the portrait-hole into the Gryffindor Common Room while still glued together.

Amelia was walking between classes when a beaming Neville approached her and asked her to thank her cousin from saving him from the glue. As they stood talking, Crabbe and Goyle had stumbled past grumbling under their breath, trying to get unstuck.

"Well they're in a sticky situation," Amelia had said, unable to stop herself, and Neville had had to fake a coughing fit to hide his guffaws.

Lupin was still chuckling at this image as he headed to Harry's next anti-Dementor lesson.

The boy seemed increasingly frustrated with his progress, despite Remus's assurances that he was doing well for his level.

"You're expecting too much of yourself," he'd said sternly, in their fourth week of practice. "For a thirteen-year-old wizard, even an indistinct Patronus is a huge achievement. You aren't passing out any more, are you?"

"I thought a Patronus would – charge the Dementors down or something," said Harry dispiritedly. "Make them disappear –"

"The true Patronus does do that," said Lupin. But you've achieved a great deal in a very short space of time. If the Dementors put in an appearance at your next Quidditch match, you will be able to keep them at bay long enough to get back to the ground."

"You said it's harder if there are loads of them," Harry complained.

"I have complete confidence in you," he said, smiling. "Here – you've earned a drink. Something from the Three Broomsticks, you won't have tried it before –"

He pulled two bottles out of his briefcase.

"Butterbeer!" exclaimed Harry. "Yeah I like that stuff!"

Lupin raised an eyebrow; apparently Harry had inherited James's talent for trouble anyway… perhaps it was genetic.

"Oh – Ron and Hermione brought me some back from Hogsmeade," Harry continued quickly. It was obvious to Remus that he was lying (he looked just like James did every time he'd been caught out) but what kind of Marauder would he be if he prevented James Potter's son from the odd illicit adventure?

"I see," he said. "Well – let's drink to a Gryffindor victory against Ravenclaw! Not that I'm supposed to take sides, as a teacher…" he added hastily.

Harry grinned at him. They drank the Butterbeer in silence, until Harry asked an unpleasant question.

"What's under a Dementor's hood?"

Remus lowered his bottle thoughtfully.

"Hmmm… well the only people who really know are in no condition to tell us. You see, the Dementor only lowers its hood to use its last and worst weapon."

"What's that?"

"They call it the Dementor's kiss," he continued, with a slightly twisted smile. "It's what Dementors do to those they wish to destroy utterly. I suppose there must be some kind of mouth under there, because they clamp their jaws upon the mouth of the victim and – suck out his soul."

Harry accidentally spat out a bit of Butterbeer. _Still shockable, then_, Remus thought.

"What – they kill -?"

"Oh, no," said Lupin. "Much worse than that. You can exist without your soul, you know, as long as your brain and heart are still working. But you'll have no sense of self anymore, no memory, no anything. There's no chance at all of recovery. You'll just – exist. As an empty shell. And your soul is gone forever… lost."

It was a terrible thing to happen to anyone, he reflected. _More like death than death…_

His mind returned to something he'd read in the paper over breakfast; he'd had to be careful that no one had caught his expression in the Great Hall.

"It's the fate that awaits Sirius Black. It was in the _Daily Prophet_ this morning. The Ministry have given the Dementors permission to perform it if they find him." _When they find him_, he thought bitterly. Sirius might well have been one hell of a Marauder, but almost the entire cohort of Azkaban Dementors were on his tail.

He studied Harry carefully: he had taken the news sombrely at breakfast and was curious as to how Harry might react; the boy seemed to know a great deal more about Sirius than he really should.

"He deserves it," he said suddenly, surprising Lupin. Perhaps he did know about Sirius's crimes.

"You think so?" said Lupin lightly. "Do you really think anyone deserves that?"

"Yes," said Harry defiantly. "For… for some things…"

Lupin watched him carefully once more, certain that he had indeed inherited James's talent for trouble and used it expertly to assess the threat against him. He was suddenly very proud to know this boy, despite some of his more childish tendencies; Lily would never have raised her son to think that way about anyone. He watched him finish his Butterbeer thoughtfully and wished him a good night before heading back to his own rooms to mark, privately wishing he'd had one of his own childhood possessions to keep an eye on his friends' son.

It was much later in the evening when he encountered a thoroughly distressed Hermione sobbing in the Library. Amelia was watching over a detention with Fred and George Weasley and would therefore have her hands full until the small hours, so he invited her up to his office for a mug of tea.

Hermione sat timidly in front of Lupin's desk behind her steaming mug, staring at the tank at the back of the room (currently full of Manx house pixies) and deeply embarrassed that she'd been caught crying by a teacher, albeit a friendly one, for the second time this year.

"Harry got his Firebolt back," she started, eyes still on the Pixies as if looking at her Professor would be too much to ask. The pixies had settled in for a relaxing evening. Being domesticated, they had built themselves what resembled a dollshouse. One of the younger ones had his face against the glass of the tank and was regarding Hermione with great interest.

"That's good," Remus said, relieved that Harry was once again relatively safe. "Isn't it?" he asked, reviewing her expression. Like Severus, tearful women weren't really his forte.

"Yes," said Hermione dully, "he even came over to apologise."

Another of the pixies, she noticed, had his feet up and was reading what looked like a tiny newspaper. Absently he knocked out his pipe on the makeshift fireplace beside him.

"Then Ron found Scabbers was gone. He found a bloodied sheet and some ginger hairs," she sniffed. "Now he's convinced that Crookshanks – my cat – ate him."

"Scabbers is?"

"Ron's rat. He's being completely unreasonable."

"Well Hermione, you know cats do chase rats – it's in their blood," he offered, delicately.

"I know that!" she snapped, then went pale. "Sorry Professor – I – I –"

Remus waved her off.

"It's fine, go on."

"But the sheet he showed me didn't have nearly enough blood on it – cats play with their food. He won't even agree to help me look for him."

"People can be very attached to their pets Hermione."

"I know – and I know I'd be upset if something happened to Crookshanks. I'd just hoped that with the Firebolt back they might have started talking to me again."

Remus looked at her then and saw himself staring back, twenty years younger and very much alone.

"Well, until they do – and they will –" he assured her, "you could always help me with the pixies."

"I could?" Hermione looked to be perking up at the possibility of a new project.

"I don't want to add to your work load, but these pixies get fed up if they're left on their own for too long. If you do your work in here you can keep each other company. They understand English and bring luck to those who treat them with kindness."

Hermione looked from the tank to her Professor, her usual good cheer returning.

"How long for?"

"Only for a couple of weeks I'm afraid, then they go back home.

Hermione looked delighted. She addressed the tank:

"Would you like that?"

The mother pixie, who was wearing a big, floral apron nodded happily; her son, face still pressed to the glass, gave her a big thumbs up.

Remus watched the exchange happily.

"Right, well since that's sorted, I think it's well past both our bedtimes."


	15. More Mischief

The Gryffindor, Ravenclaw match was greatly amusing for Amelia. She was sat with Remus and Severus for a start and could hear Pomona and Poppy keeping book behind her. In the row of seats in front of them, Filius was jumping around excitedly, cheering on his team, while Minerva spent the majority of the match attempting to stop Lee Jordan, resident commentator, from advertising Harry's Firebolt. She could feel the emotions around her more keenly than at the previous matches, which was interesting, if a little wearing after a while.

"They're off, and the big excitement this match is the Firebolt which Harry Potter is flying for Gryffindor. According to _Which Broomstick_, the Firebolt's going to be the broom of choice for the national teams at this year's World Championship –"

"Jordan, would you mind telling us what's going on in the match?" interrupted Minerva. Severus sniggered to her left.

"Right you are, Professor – just giving a bit of background information. The Firebolt, incidentally, has a built-in auto-brake and –"

"Jordan!"

"Ok, ok, Gryffindor in possession, Katie Bell of Gryffindor heading for goal…"

The Gryffindors, Minerva, Remus and herself included, cheered wildly as Katie scored. Out of the corner of her eye Amelia noticed Harry going into a steep dive across the pitch, the Ravenclaw seeker hot on his heels, then a Bludger, hit by one of the Ravenclaw Beaters, came pelting out of nowhere; Harry veered off course, narrowly avoiding it. There was a great 'Ooooh' of disappointment from the Gryffindor supporters, but much applause for the Ravenclaw beater from the Blues; Ravenclaw were indeed a good team. George Weasley vented his feelings by hitting the second Bludger directly at the offending Beater, who was forced to roll right over in mid-air to avoid it.

"Gryffindor lead by eighty points to zero, and look at that Firebolt go! Potter's really putting it through its paces now. See it turn – Chang's Comet is just no match for it. The Firebolt's precision-balance is really noticeable in these long –"

"JORDAN! ARE YOU BEING PAID TO ADVERTISE FIREBOLTS? GET ON WITH THE COMMENTARY!"

Behind Minerva the majority of the staff were rolling around in their seats, wiping tears of mirth from their eyes; Severus was once more supporting himself on Remus and Professor Dockrill's loud guffaws carried forward to Dumbledore who turned. Amelia could have sworn that the headmaster had snorted with laughter before turning back to the game in order to maintain his composure.

Ravenclaw were pulling back; they had now scored three goals, which put Gryffindor only fifty points ahead – if Cho got the Snitch before him, Ravenclaw would win. Harry dropped lower, narrowly avoiding a Ravenclaw Chaser, scanning the pitch frantically.

He must have seen what he was looking for as he accelerated, speeding towards the Gryffindor goal posts, only to be blocked in a magnificent play by Chang.

Distantly, with his expert hearing, Remus caught Wood roaring at Harry about the appropriate timing for chivalry.

"KNOCK HER OFF HER BROOM IF YOU HAVE TO!"

Harry soared high above the other players, then dived – Chang followed closely, but he swiftly pulled out of the dive in an excellent feint, before streaking off towards the Ravenclaw end…

Chang, who had also seen the Snitch, screamed and pointed down.

Distracted, Harry looked down; following their line of sight, Amelia leaned forward to see three Dementors crossing the pitch below. They looked a little odd and she wasn't feeling the usual cold dread seeping into her bones. Remus grabbed her arm as he too saw the Dementors.

Above them, Harry didn't hesitate; he pulled his wand from his robes and fired a Patronus down at them before grabbing the Snitch, which had unusually stayed put in the confusion. As the stands went insane – and even Severus hummed his appreciation for a well controlled charm – the staff hurried down to the pitch to deal with the three would-be Dementors.

The Gryffindor team landed heavily on the pitch behind her as Snape and Minerva rushed forward to scream at the offending students. She, Remus and Pomona hung back to support themselves against the stands, nearly doubled over with the hilarity of the scene in front of them.

Composing himself, Remus went to find Harry to show him his 'Dementors' as Amelia and her colleagues continued to laugh at the crumpled remains of Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle and Flint's costumes.

Snape, catching sight of Amelia from the corner of his eye had to turn away before assembling his features into an appropriate scowl while Minerva, purple with rage, was shouting at the four stunned Slytherins. Amelia suspected that if her colleague had been much angrier, she'd have been jumping up and down.

0o0o0o0

At dinner Severus was careful to apologise to Minerva, on behalf of his ridiculous students, and by the end of the meal she had calmed down sufficiently to join in the headmaster's sardonic toast to Slytherin ingenuity.

Amelia invited her fellow professors to her Pocket Allotment for the next Ladies Night. Filius was allowed to join them, it was decided, since he could provide them with a charm that would temporarily switch seasons and allow them all to warm up a little. After arranging an appropriate time, she headed upstairs hand in hand with Remus.

Pomona and Filius watched them go.

"Well that's settled then," she remarked.

Filius nodded, "About bloody time too, I was beginning to think they'd never get around to one another."

They were awoken in the early morning by a worried looking Poppy. Together, grimly, they searched the castle and grounds before reconvening inn Dumbledore's office to report.

"It was the second time I'd been down there – I thought they were continuing with the victory celebrations," Minerva, who was sporting a hairnet and a tartan dressing gown, was telling Poppy (fluffy pink dressing gown, hair in rollers).

"It must have been one hell of a party," remarked Pomona, as she and Severus returned from their rounds. Pomona had on blue striped pyjamas that made Amelia's head hurt if the other witch moved too fast.

"It was," agreed Minerva, shuddering slightly at the appearance of Argus, clad only in a grubby nightshirt and slippers.

Amelia considered that she was seeing altogether too much of her colleagues' nightwear in one, terrible go.

"But then Ronald Weasley told me he'd seen Black standing over him with a knife – which of course I didn't believe."

Professor Dockrill, who had apparently leapt from bed with his Norse battle-axe snorted his assent.

"But then Sir Cadogan admitted to letting him in. That stupid Longbottom boy had written the passwords down and lost them."

The office was quiet as the enormity of the boy's mistake sunk in.

_Poor Neville_, thought Amelia, _his life's going to be hell after this_.

When the last of the searchers had returned, Dumbledore conjured a whiskey for everyone and they settled down, expectantly. In the soft glow of the firelight, everyone drinking and clad in a colourful array of flannel and cotton strongly reminded Amelia of a folk festival she had attended a few summers previously. Despite the sombre mood, she had to concentrate quite hard not to snort with laughter.

"It appears that Black is long gone," said the Headmaster wearily. "Doubtless he was attempting to find and eliminate Harry – we may be grateful that he didn't succeed."

From her corner, and resplendent in a black satin nightgown, Madame Pince asked the question they were all silently considering.

"But why didn't he hurt the other boy? We know from his past crimes that he's ruthless."

"Probably didn't have time," answered Professor Dockrill, gruffly.

"But he could have just silenced him and moved on until he got the right bed," offered Argus; to his credit, the man sounded just as worried about the students as the others.

"Regardless," interrupted Dumbledore, aware that this could easily dissolve into pointless supposition. "He got in and that's enough to tighten security. I'll be introducing nightly patrols…" a couple of the staff grumbled, the rest were too on edge. "… for which Minerva will draw up a rota. I have also asked the Fat Lady to return to her post, alas she is understandably reluctant without a little more protection, To this end I intend to engage some Guard Trolls."

There was a general murmur of approval; beside her, Severus raised an eyebrow.

"I've also asked the House Elves to be vigilant on their rounds – they were, as always, eager to help." He took a sip of his drink.

"It seems so sad," he mused, apparently lost in his own thoughts, "to have to hunt for a former pupil, and friend."

There were nods around the room; more than a few of the older staff members, Severus included, glanced sadly at Remus, whose face was grim.

"I've asked Rubeus to speak with the Dementors. I think, unless anyone has anything to add, we should return to our beds. Minerva and I will take the first watch."

Subdued, the staff filed out.

"That could have been a lot worse," remarked Severus quietly, as the three of them made their way across the courtyard.

Amelia agreed fervently, "I bet none of the Gryffindors will sleep tonight."

"I don't think any of us will," responded Lupin, stretching.

0o0o0o0

The following day was spent murder-proofing the castle. Filius could be seen teaching the front doors to recognise a large picture of Sirius Black; Filch was suddenly bustling up and down the corridors, boarding up everything from tiny cracks in the walls to mouse holes. Amelia spent the day helping Pomona plant some particularly large Tentacula plants and Devils Snare bushes around the castle's more vulnerable points.

As she worked, she worried about her cousin. She could feel her fear, compounded by the fact that the friend whose welfare she had in mind still wouldn't speak to her. She'd always known when Hermione was in trouble, even before she'd realised what that ability really was. A few years back she'd hidden behind the gates of Hermione's junior school, waiting for that prickle of fear to appear in the back of her mind before marching in and bollocking her bullies. On excavation in the Northern Isles, she'd woken up sweating the night Hermione and her friends had followed Quirrell down the trapdoor in the third floor corridor on the right and fainted, she realised, at the exact moment that Hermione had been Petrified by the Basilisk in Second year.

So now, as Hermione was worried, she was worried.

On Tuesday morning, Neville received a Howler from his grandmother – a formidable woman by all accounts; only ever having heard of them before, Amelia watched with great interest as the post owls swooped away and Neville ran, white faced from the Great Hall.

They heard the Howler go off in the Entrance Hall – Neville's grandmother's voice, magically magnifies to a hundred times its usual volume, shrieking about how he had brought shame on the whole family.

She shook her head and shared a look with Hermione. _Poor lad_, their minds echoed.

0o0o0o0

Later that evening Hermione was struggling with her homework – a fact that continued to irk her – when she overheard Harry and Ron's whispered conversation in the common room.

_They haven't even noticed I'm here!_ She thought angrily.

"Hogsmeade, next weekend!" said Ron, craning over the heads of the students crowding around the notice board. "What d'you reckon?" he added quietly to Harry as they sat down.

"Well Filch hasn't done anything about the passage into Honeydukes," said Harry, even more quietly.

Hermione lost all semblance of patience.

"Harry!" she hissed in his ear, making both boys jump. "Harry, if you go into Hogsmeade again… I'll tell Professor McGonagall about that map!"

"Can you hear someone talking, Harry?" growled Ron, not looking at her.

Why couldn't they understand how stupid this was?

"Ron, how can you let him go with you? After what Sirius Black nearly did to _you_! I mean it, I'll tell –"

"So now you're trying to get Harry expelled!" said Ron furiously, turning to glare at her. "Haven't you done enough damage this year?"

Hermione, who was by this point fuming, opened her mouth to tell Ron exactly what she thought of him when Crookshanks leapt onto her lap. Suddenly afraid of the look in her former friend's eyes, she gathered up Crookshanks and hurried up to the girls dormitories.

Still furious, she put Crookshanks down on the bed and tried to compose herself.

_Amelia's right_, she thought, _they still think they're immortal_. The same notion, one which she had clung to when they had pitched themselves into the trapdoor under Fluffy, Hagrid's three-headed dog, had been roughly disposed of when she'd stared uncomprehendingly at the rubble that had been her parents' house, a year and a half ago.

She grabbed her fabric scrap bag and practically ran to Lupin's office; still in the Common Room, Harry and Ron didn't even see her go. After getting no response to her knocks, she slipped through the office door and padded across to the tank.

The pixies greeted her warmly and she lowered the scrap bag gently into the tank, helping the pixie mother choose new fabrics for her family as a going away present; the youngest pixie, a tiny girl, kept getting tangled up in the brightly coloured scraps and was whooping happily.

She stayed there for a while before bidding her tiny friends farewell; the pixies waved their friend sadly out of sight. They'd rather liked their lonely human friend.

0o0o0o0

On Saturday morning, Harry packed his Invisibility Cloak in his bag, slipped the Marauder's Map into his pocket and went down to breakfast with everyone else. Hermione kept shooting suspicious looks down the table at him, but he avoided her eye, and was careful to let her see him walking back up the marble staircase in the Entrance Hall as everyone else proceeded to the front doors.

"Bye!" Harry called to Ron. "See you when you get back!"

Ron, never the least conspicuous co-conspirator, grinned and winked.

Harry hurried up to the third floor, slipping the Marauders' Map out of his pocket as he went. Crouching behind the one-eyed witch, he smoothed it out. A tiny dot was moving in his direction. Harry squinted at it. The miniscule writing next to it read '_Neville Longbottom_'.

Harry quickly pulled out his wand, muttered "_Dissendium!_" and shoved his bag into the statue, but before he could climb in himself, Neville came around the corner.

"Harry! I forgot you weren't going to Hogsmeade either!"

"Hi, Neville," said Harry, moving swiftly away from the statue and pushing the map back into his pocket. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing," shrugged Neville. "Want a game of Exploding Snap?"

"Er – not now – I was going to go to the library and do that vampire essay for Lupin-"

"I'll come with you!" said Neville, brightly. "I haven't done it either!"

"Er – hang on – yeah, I forgot, I finished it last night!"

"Brilliant, you can help me!" said Neville, his round face anxious. "I don't understand that thing about the garlic at all – do they have to eat it, or –"

Neville broke off with a small gasp, looking over Harry's shoulder. It was Snape. Neville took a quick step behind Harry.

"And what are you two doing here?" said Snape, coming to a halt and looking from one to the other. "An odd place to meet –"

To Harry's immense disquiet, Snape's black eyes flicked to the doorways on either side of them, and then to the one-eyed witch.

"We're not – meeting here," said Harry. "We just – met here."

"Indeed?" said Snape (who, apart from his new suspicions about the statue of the one-eyed witch, was enjoying irking Harry; he was also not an idiot). "You have a habit of turning up in unexpected places, Potter, and you are rarely there for no reason…" Not unkindly, he added, "I suggest the pair of you return to Gryffindor Tower where you belong."

Harry and Neville set off without a word. As they turned the corner, Harry looked back. Snape was running one of his hands over the one-eyed witch's head, examining it closely.

Harry managed to shake Neville off at the Fat Lady by telling him the password then pretending he'd left his vampire essay in the library and doubling back*. Once out of sight of the security trolls, he pulled out the map again and held it close to his nose.

The third floor corridor seemed to be deserted. Harry scanned the map carefully and saw, with a leap of relief, that the tiny dot labelled 'Severus Snape' was now back in its office.

He sprinted back to the one-eyed witch, opened her hump, heaved himself inside and slid down to meet his bag at the bottom of the stone chute. He wiped the Marauders' Map blank again, then set off at a run.

0o0o0o0

Lupin, having packed the pixies off, spent the afternoon marking; Amelia was spending the afternoon in Hogsmeade trying to cheer her cousin up, and had enlisted the help of young Ginny Weasley in the process.

He had been growing increasingly bored as the pile dwindled and time marched on. He'd just begun a dire effort by one of the Patil twins when his fireplace sprung to life. Snape's voice emanated forth, made sinister by the green glow of the fire.

"Lupin! I want a word." He didn't sound like he was in a great mood.

Sighing, he strode towards the fireplace; Severus's tone suggested that their current truce was probably on hold.

As he entered Snape's office, he quickly discovered why. He eyed a worried looking Harry as he brush ash off his already fraying clothes.

"You called, Severus?" he said, mildly.

"I certainly did," said Severus, looking truly furious as he strode back to his desk. "I have just asked Potter to empty his pockets. He was carrying this."

Snape pointed at the parchment, on which the words of Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs were still shining. Remus read it through a few times.

'_Mr Moony presents his compliments to Professor Snape, and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people's business'_

'_Mr Prongs agrees with Mr Moony, and would like to add that Professor Snape is an ugly git.'_

'_Mr Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that ever became a Professor.'_

'_Mr Wormtail bids Professor Snape good day, and advises him to wash his hair, the slimeball.'_

Remus hoped that the blush that was starting somewhere below his collar wouldn't get any further.

_Crap._

He desperately hoped that his face was as blank as he thought it was.

"Well?" said Snape.

He continued to stare at the map, trying to come up with something plausible. Despite his newfound friendship with the old snake, he didn't want to drop Harry in it, nor expose himself as the evil genius that he'd once been.

"_Well?_" said Snape again. "This parchment is plainly full of Dark Magic. This is supposed to be your area of expertise, Lupin. Where do you imagine Potter got such a thing?"

Remus looked up, glancing at Harry to ensure that he'd play along.

"Full of Dark Magic?" he repeated mildly. "Do you really think so, Severus? It looks to me as though it is merely a piece of parchment that insults anybody that tries to read it. Childish, but surely not dangerous? I imagine Harry got it from a joke-shop-"

"Indeed?" said Snape. His jaw had gone rigid with anger. "You think a joke-shop could supply him with such a thing? You don't think it more likely that he got it _directly from the manufacturers_?"

Remus gulped mentally, but managed to appear confused in front of Harry; of course Severus would know their nicknames! He tried to make his expression tell Severus that this was impossible and that he'd fill him in later.

"You mean Mr Wormtail or one of these people?" he said. "Harry, do you know any of these men?"

Thankfully, Harry looked appropriately blank.

"No," he replied, quickly.

"You see, Severus?" said Remus, turning back to Severus. "It looks like a Zonko product to me –"

Right on cue, Ron came bursting into the office. He was completely out of breath and stopped just short of Snape's desk, clutching the stitch in his chest and trying to speak.

"I – gave – Harry – that – stuff," he choked. "Bought – it – in – Zonkos – ages –ago…"

Silently applauding the Marauding spirit that was clearly alive and well in these boys, he clapped his hands together cheerfully and said:

"Well! That seems to clear that up! Severus, I'll take this back, shall I?" He folded the map and tucked it inside his robes. "Harry, Ron, come with me, I need a word about my vampire essay. Excuse us, Severus."

As he shepherded the boys out of the office in front of him, he turned and mouthed _'I'll explain later_' to Severus, who narrowed his eyes, but gave a curt nod.

He marched them along until they reached the Entrance Hall, wrestling with anger that Harry was careless enough to sneak into Hogsmeade despite the recent attack and oddly proud that the midnight wanderings of himself and his old school friends were being put to good use.

Harry broke the silence.

"Professor, I –"

"I don't want to hear explanations," said Remus shortly. He glanced around the empty Entrance Hall and lowered his voice. "I happen to know that this map was confiscated by Mr Filch many years ago. Yes, I know it's a map," he said, as Harry and Ron looked amazed. "I don't want to know how it fell into your possession. I am however, _astounded_ that you didn't hand it in. Particularly after what happened the last time a student left information about the castle lying around. And I can't let you have it back, Harry."

The boy appeared to ignore this and continued.

"Why did Snape think I'd got it from the manufacturers?" he asked.

"Because…" Lupin hesitated. He'd have to choose his words carefully. "Because these mapmakers would have wanted to lure you out of the school. They'd think it extremely entertaining."

_We certainly would_, he thought quietly, _and while James, Peter and I would be proud of you – and ourselves – the man that used to be Sirius would enjoy it a little too much_. He decided that a lecture was in order.

"Do you _know_ them?" asked Harry, impressed.

"We've met," he said shortly. He looked at Harry sternly. "Don't expect me to cover up for you again, Harry. I cannot make you take Sirius Black seriously. But I would have thought that what you have heard when the Dementors draw near you would have had more of an effect on you. Your parents gave their lives to keep you alive, Harry. A poor way to repay them – gambling their sacrifice for a bag of magic tricks."

He left the boys then and headed straight for Amelia's rooms, too excited, even in his anger, not to show his lover this remarkable artefact of pranks past.

He found her there, having returned early from Hogsmeade. Although she chided him for, even indirectly, causing trouble with Severus again, she too was excited about the map and after he taught her the charms they watched parchment together.

The tiny dot marked 'Hermione Granger' met the two dots marked 'Harry Potter' and 'Ronald Weasley' and after what appeared to be a brief conversation they were heartened to see the three dots move into the Gryffindor Common Room together.

"It's beautifully penned," Amelia remarked as she marvelled at the detail of the thing.

Remus beamed.

"That was me," he admitted proudly. "The others did most of the – research – Pete made a fantastic lookout."

Amelia smiled at him. "I take it you were 'Mr Moony'"

"Not the most flattering nickname, I have to admit," he blushed.

"No," she agreed. "It'll give us a good way of keeping an eye out for Black though – I'm assuming that you'd like to keep this between the two of us for now?"

Remus nodded.

"I'd like to tell Severus too, I think – I owe it to him."

She smiled back at him, and he noticed again how pretty she was when she smiled.

"…Apparently you're up for a bit of mischief yourself," he said, with a smirk.

Amelia gave him a look that made him catch his breath. She tilted her head to one side appraisingly. "You're cute when you blush," she said, and kissed him, hard.

His hands snaked around her back as hers found their way into his short brown hair.

After a few minutes of hazy delight Remus remembered the map and reached for his wand.

"Mischief managed," he commanded breathlessly as the map folded up.

"Oh, absolutely," Amelia laughed, before turning her attention back to the task at hand.

0o0o0o0

*Which personally, I think was rotten of him. Neville's his friend – the least he could do is break them both out for the day. Humph. Teenagers.


	16. Defiance

The news of Buckbeak's imminent execution sent waves of disappointment through the already weary staff. Even Severus, who had initially supported Malfoy's case, could be found consoling Hagrid over a flagon of ale or helping Hermione as she worked towards the appeal. Evidently he felt that the death penalty was somewhat unwarranted.

Amelia's mood was greatly improved by Hermione's renewed friendship with the boys. The shock of the board's decision appeared to have healed the wounds in their relationship and Amelia or Remus would often find the three of them working on the appeal in the Library, late into the night.

Ron had taken over responsibility for the appeal. When he wasn't doing his own work, he was poring over enormously thick volumes with names like _The Handbook of Hippogriff Psychology_ and _Fowl or Foul? A Study of Hippogriff Brutality_. He was so absorbed, he even forgot to be horrible to Crookshanks.

Her concern for the newly fledged friendship between Severus and Remus had apparently been unfounded, though she was still slightly appalled by her lover's ability to lie. He _had_ spent his life in hiding, she supposed, but still.

Severus was touched that Remus had chosen to reveal the map to him – although the werewolf had assured him that Harry would have had no idea how to read it and still believed that it was an insulting parchment. He also, truthfully, assured his new friend that he'd still thought it was locked in Filch's filing cabinets until the moment he saw it and had told Severus the story of how it had eventually been captured at the end of their seventh year.

Severus agreed not to tell anyone about the map, and to take a shift watching for Black every so often.

The weather, for the first time in months, was finally beginning to improve, which further proved to lighten her mood. There were tight green buds on the trees outside the castle and in the tiny garden on her windowsill, furled and full of promise. Amelia could feel the growing world begin to breathe again and it refreshed her.

0o0o0o0

Hermione appeared out of the blue one evening, upset and excitable.

"I missed Charms," she blurted out, before she'd even sat down.

Remus was out with Poppy, Filius and Professor Dockrill (a somewhat worrying prospect, given her colleagues' sense of humour and talk of a Viking drinking game), so she'd looked forward to a quiet evening, mostly involving tea, chocolate and a good book. Apparently this was not to be.

"I fell asleep," Hermione said.

Amelia frowned; her cousin seemed constantly exhausted these days.

"Well that's not so bad, I'm sure Filius will understand," she began, reasonably.

"I've already seen him. He was very kind about it, but he said I'd missed Cheering Charms, and that they might come up in the exam."

"I'll give you a hand with that if you'd like," Amelia offered. Hermione looked grateful.

"Thanks Mel. That's not all I'm worried about though."

"Oh?"

"I dropped Divination today."

Amelia gave her cousin a long look.

"How exactly did you break the news to Sybill?" she asked, carefully.

"Erm…" Hermione looked uncomfortable, so Amelia attempted her stern look. Her cousin winced and continued, "well, we moved on from palmistry to crystal balls. It's like staring into fog – yet another pointless exercise I might add."

Amelia nodded, "It seems some people have the sight and others don't… I'm not wholly certain which side of that division Sybill falls on," she added. Hermione smirked.

"Ron found it all very funny, and Harry wasn't helping either. I kept thinking – I could be catching up with Cheering Charms. Then Professor Trelawny offered to help…" Hermione trailed off and bit her lip.

"… And?"

"… and Ron said he didn't need any help as it was obvious that it meant there was going to be a lot of fog tonight."

Amelia snorted.

"Me and Harry burst out laughing, so she came over saying we were 'disturbing the clairvoyant vibrations'" she trilled, in a passable impression of the hapless seer. "Or some such rot, and of course she started in about Harry and the Grim again, and I… I lost my temper."

Amelia, having been on the receiving end of Hermione's fierce temper before, gave her a hard look.

"What did you say to her?"

"Only that the Grim was ridiculous – she is a teacher, after all."

Amelia relaxed, saving Hermione's reputation as a goody-two-shoes wouldn't be as difficult as she'd feared.

"Then she said I'd never be able to succeed in Divination as I was so very 'Mundane'."

Amelia tutted; trust Sybill to let her anger get the better of her.

"Needless to say I was upset, not that it's that big a deal – I _hate_ Divination – so I stormed out. And I'm not going back!" The young witch added, with defiance.

Amelia waved her off.

"I wasn't suggesting you did. You _will_ have to speak with Minerva about it though."

Hermione looked dismayed.

"But I was so rude!"

"True, but Minerva's no great fan of Sybill either. I'll go with you if you like."

"Thanks Mel!" Hermione said, with feeling. "I was just so worked up about work, and Hagrid's appeal, and Malfoy, and missing class that I just snapped."

"Malfoy?"

Hermione didn't quite meet her cousin's eyes.

"Um…"

Amelia sighed.

"Alright, tell me cousin to cousin. The teacher in me will go for a proverbial cup of tea."

Hermione looked at her, as if weighing up the pros and cons of discussing the morning's events.

"It was after Care of Magical Creatures," she began, slowly. "Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were taking the piss out of Hagrid because he was upset, so…"

"So…?"

"So… I hit him. Hard. Ron tried to stop me –"

"Brave lad."

"But I was too angry, so I pulled out my wand and they ran off."

Amelia was unable to stop the smirk that was spreading across her features.

"I'd have hit the little bastard too. You shouldn't have tried to hex him though – not that you could have done anything permanent – but you'd have been in so much trouble. Foolish, young grasshopper," she said, pulling her cousin into a hug. "Now, Cheering Charms…"

0o0o0o0

"She punched him?"

"Really hard."

"Wow. Go Hermione!"

Amelia and Remus were wandering the halls that night, taking their turn to patrol along with Pomona.

"It's about time someone taught that little oik some manners," the older witch said, bracingly. "I heard about her performance in Divination, too – I suppose she's alright? That much work would make anyone crack."

Remus nodded, recalling his own obsession with schoolwork.

"I think she'll be ok," said Amelia. "I think her patience is wearing a little thin these days is all."

"And she's got the boys back," added Remus.

"Yes," said Pomona. "Coping with things is ever so much easier when you're not alone."

Privately, Amelia reflected that the last few years would have been nearly impossible without her cousin.

Remus glanced at his lover; he knew that he could manage alone – it was all he'd done for the past twelve years – but this odd, fiery young woman seemed to chase the darkness away. Glancing up at him, Amelia smiled and his heart sang.

No matter what else happened this year, letting Dumbledore talk him into teaching here was the best idea he'd ever had.

0o0o0o0

Never, in anyone's memory, had a match approached in such a highly charged atmosphere. By the time the holidays were over, tension between the two teams and their houses was at breaking point. A number of small scuffles broke out in the corridors, culminating in a nasty incident in which a Gryffindor fourth-year and a Slytherin sixth-year ended up in the Hospital-Wing with Leeks sprouting out of their ears.

It seemed to Remus that Harry was having a particularly bad time of it. He couldn't walk to class without Slytherins sticking out their legs and trying to trip him up; Crabbe and Goyle kept popping up wherever he went, and slouching away looking disappointed when they saw him surrounded by people. Wood had given instructions that Harry should be accompanied everywhere, in case the Slytherins tried to put him out of action. The whole of Gryffindor house took up the challenge enthusiastically, so that it was impossible for Harry to get to classes on time because he was surrounded by a vast, chattering crowd. He also appeared to be much more concerned for his Firebolt's safety than his own. When he wasn't flying it, he locked it securely in his trunk, and frequently dashed back up to Gryffindor Tower at break-times to check that it was still there.

As usual, Amelia, Remus and Severus walked down to the pitch together, looking for all the world that the electricity of the match wasn't preventing a certain level of professionalism amongst the staff. They knew differently, however: although Quidditch wasn't really their thing, Severus and Minerva had almost come to blows a few evenings previous over whose was the better team.

The other teachers of course were maintaining outwardly neutral, but no-one wanted to see Slytherin win again. Pomona was once again keeping book and there had been a flurry of visits to and from the Greenhouses in the past week; dinner conversations often seemed to turn to odds at the top table.

On the day itself Remus dug out his old school scarf (in Gryffindor colours of course) and Amelia had proudly produced a freshly knitted version herself. It came as no surprise that Snape had also found his school scarf; as they walked down to the pitch amongst the chattering throng of students, they felt suddenly that they were a part of it once more. When they settled in the stands, Amelia was astonished to encounter a prickle of house pride. They booed and cheered along with the rest as the teams came out onto the pitch to a tidal wave of noise.

0o0

Three quarters of the crowd were wearing scarlet rosettes, waving scarlet flags with the Gryffindor lion upon them or brandishing banners with slogans such as 'GO GRYFFINDOR!' and 'LIONS FOR THE CUP!'. Behind the Slytherin goalposts, however, two hundred people were wearing green; the silver serpent of Slytherin glittering on their flags.

Harry scanned the staff box; Professor Snape sat in the very front row, wearing green like his housemates, and a very grim smile. Sat beside him, much to Harry's amusement were Professor Lupin and Hermione's cousin, both cheerfully sporting red and gold scarves and beaming down at him.

"And here are the Gryffindors!" yelled Lee Jordan, who was acting as commentator as usual. "Potter, Bell, Johnson, Spinnet, Weasley, Weasley and Wood. Widely acknowledged as the best side Hogwarts has seen in a good few years –"

Lee's comments were drowned by a tide of 'boos' from the Slytherin end.

"And here come the Slytherin team, lead by captain Flint. He's made some changes in the line-up and seems to be going for size rather than skill –"

More boos from the Slytherin crowd. Amelia, however, thought Lee had a point. Malfoy was easily the smallest person on the Slytherin team; the rest of them were enormous.

"Captains, shake hands!" said Madam Hooch.

Flint and Wood approached each other and grasped each other's hands very tightly; it looked as though each was trying to break the other's fingers.

"Mount your brooms!" said Madam Hooch. "Three… two… one…"

The sound of her whistle was lost in the roar from the crowd as fourteen brooms rose into the air. They watched Harry speed off immediately in search of the Snitch, Malfoy hot on his tail.

"And it's Gryffindor in possession, Alicia Spinnet of Gryffindor with the Quaffle, heading straight for the Slytherin goalposts, looking good, Alicia! Argh no – Quaffle intercepted by Warrington, Warrington of Slytherin tearing up the pitch – WHAM! – nice Bludger work there by George Weasley, Warrington drops the Quaffle, it's caught by – Johnson, Gryffindor back in possession, come on Angelina – nice swerve round Montague – _duck Angelina, that's a Bludger!_ – SHE SCORES! TEN-ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!"

Angelina punched the air as she soared round the end of the pitch; the sea of scarlet below was screaming its delight –

"OUCH!"

Angelina was nearly thrown from her broom as Marcus Flint went smashing into her.

"Sorry!" said Flint, as the crowd below booed. "Sorry! Didn't see her!"

Behind her, Amelia heard Filius squeaking obscenities at the Slytherin captain, and she realised that Remus was growling, very gently, under his breath; she stood on his foot.

Next moment, Fred Weasley had chucked his Beater's club at the back of Flint's head. Flint's nose smashed in into the handle of his broom and began to bleed. Amelia hissed her displeasure, Gryffindor or not.

"That will do!" shrieked Madam Hooch, zooming between them. Penalty for Gryffindor for an unprovoked attack on their Chaser! Penalty to Slytherin for deliberate damage to _their_ Chaser!"

"Come off it Miss!" howled Fred, but Madam Hooch blew her whistle and Alicia flew forward to take the penalty.

"Come on, Alicia!" yelled Lee into the silence that had descended on the crowd. "YES! SHE'S BEATEN THE KEEPER! TWENTY-ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!"

All eyes were on Flint as he, still bleeding freely, flew forwards to take the Slytherin penalty. Wood was hovering in front of the Gryffindor goal posts, his jaw clenched.

"Course, Wood's a superb Keeper!" Lee Jordan told the crowd, as Flint waited for Madam Hooch's whistle. "Superb! Very difficult to pass – very difficult indeed – YES! I DON'T BELIEVE IT! HE'S SAVED IT!"

"Gryffindor in possession, no Slytherin in position – no! – Gryffindor back in possession and it's Katie Bell for Gryffindor with the Quaffle, she's streaking up the pitch – THAT WAS DELIBERATE!"

Montague, a Slytherin Chaser, had swerved in front of Katie, and instead of seizing the Quaffle, had grabbed her head. Katie cart-wheeled in the air, managed to stay on her broom but dropped the Quaffle.

Amelia realised that she had her fingers in her mouth and quickly removed them as Madam Hooch's whistle rang out again as she soared over to Montague and began shouting at him. A minute later, Katie had put another penalty past the Slytherin Keeper.

"THIRTY-ZERO! TAKE THAT, YOU DIRTY, CHEATING –"

"Jordan, if you can't commentate in an unbiased way-!"

"I'm telling it like it is, Professor!"

Amelia couldn't help agreeing with him.

Suddenly, Harry pulled around and shot towards the Slytherin end, Malfoy hot on his tail once more – out of nowhere, two Bludgers streaked past him – it looked like the two Beaters for the Slytherin team, Derrick and Bole, were going to take him out simply by crashing into him and whacking him until he fell out of the sky. At the last second, Harry shot upwards at high speed, and Bole and Derrick collided with a sickening crunch.

Amelia was suddenly on her feet and punching the air. "That'll learn you, you scummy bastards!" she shouted, her words lost by the roar of the crowd, most of which agreed with her.

"Ha haaa!" yelled Lee Jordan, as the Slytherin Beaters lurched away from one another, clutching their heads. "Too bad, boys! You'll need to get up earlier than that to beat a Firebolt! And it's Gryffindor in possession again, as Johnson takes the Quaffle – Flint alongside her – poke him in the eye Angelina! – it was a joke, Professor, it was a joke – oh, no – Flint in possession, Flint flying towards the Gryffindor goalposts, come on, now, Wood, save -!"

But Flint had scored; there was an eruption of cheers from the Slytherin end, Snape was on his feet and Lee swore so badly that Professor McGonagall tried to tug the magical megaphone away from him.

"Sorry, Professor, sorry! Won't happen again! So, Gryffindor in the lead, thirty points to ten, and Gryffindor in possession –"

It was turning into the dirtiest match Amelia had ever seen – including several of her Uncle's rugby union matches. Enraged that Gryffindor had taken such an early lead, the Slytherin were rapidly resorting to any means to take the Quaffle. Bole hit Alicia with his club and tried to say he'd thought she was a Bludger. George Weasley elbowed Bole in the face in retaliation. Madam Hooch awarded both teams penalties, and Wood pulled off another spectacular save, making the score forty-ten to Gryffindor.

Lupin, Snape and Amelia had taken their seats again, just in time to watch Katie score – fifty-ten to Gryffindor. Fred and George were swooping around her, clubs raised, in case any of the Slytherins were thinking of revenge. Bole and Derrick took advantage of Fred and George's absence to aim both Bludgers at Wood; they caught him in the stomach, one after the other, and he rolled over in the air, clutching his broom, completely winded.

Amelia wondered aloud whether it should be possible to send off people who were acting like shits.

Madam Hooch was beside herself.

"_You do not attack the Keeper unless the Quaffle is within the scoring area!_" she shrieked at Bole and Derrick. "Gryffindor penalty!"

And Angelina scored. Sixty-ten. Moments later, Fred Weasley pelted a Bludger at Warrington, knocking the Quaffle out of his hands; Alicia seized it and put it through the Slytherin goal: seventy-ten.

The Gryffindor crowd were screaming themselves hoarse – Gryffindor were sixty points in the lead, and if Harry caught the Snitch now, the Cup was theirs. Almost all eyes were on Harry now – including those of the Slytherins, though they were glaring – and he was still soaring high above the game with Malfoy trailing behind him.

He must have seen it, because suddenly he shot upwards – but Malfoy grabbed the end of his broom and held on, dragging him down.

"Penalty! Penalty to Gryffindor! I've never seen such tactics!" Madam Hooch screeched, shooting up to where Malfoy was sliding back onto his Nimbus Two-Thousand and One.

"YOU CHEATING SCUM!" Lee Jordan was howling into the megaphone, dancing out of Professor McGonagall's reach. "YOU FILTHY CHEATING BASTARDS!"

Minerva didn't even bother to tell him off. She was actually shaking her fist in Malfoy's direction; her hat had fallen off, and she, too, was shouting furiously.

Alicia took Gryffindor's penalty, but she was so angry that she missed by several feet. The Gryffindor team were losing concentration and the Slytherins, delighted by Malfoy's foul on Harry, were being spurred on to greater heights.

"Slytherin in possession, Slytherin heading for goal – Montague scores –" Lee groaned into the megaphone. "Seventy – twenty to Gryffindor…"

Harry was now marking Malfoy so closely that they looked like one player from the stands.

"Angelina Johnson gets the Quaffle for Gryffindor, come on Angelina, COME ON!"

Suddenly, every Slytherin player apart from Malfoy, even the Keeper, was streaking down the pitch towards her – if they all hit her at once they were going to kill her – even Snape was on his feet beside his friends screaming for them to stop – when out of nowhere Harry shot through them and scattered the players, saving Angelina from a painful block.

Snape grabbed Amelia's arm and pointed, at the other end of the pitch Malfoy was streaking triumphantly down towards the Snitch – Harry turned to follow him – he was gaining on Malfoy… Harry flattened himself against his broom as Bole hit a Bludger at him… he was at Malfoy's ankles… he was level –

Harry took both hands off his broom as the boys fought to reach forwards –

Around her the stadium exploded as he pulled out of his dive, his hand in the air! They'd done it! After ten years, Gryffindor had taken the Cup from Slytherin! She was vaguely aware of Snape beside her with his head in his hands as Remus grabbed her and kissed her, looking wild and shocking them both. Behind her Filius and Poppy were doing a weird kind of victory dance while Pomona and Professor Dockrill high-fived and roared their approval.

The Gryffindor team were streaking towards Harry and together they descended, a tangled mass of red and gold. Wave upon wave of crimson supporters was pouring over the barriers onto the pitch to meet them. Hagrid was below them, plastered with crimson rosettes – Percy Weasley was jumping up and down like a maniac, all dignity forgotten. Minerva was sobbing harder than Wood, wiping her eyes on a massive scarlet flag – Severus, still looking crushed, was shaking her hand before she pulled him into an unexpected hug. Amelia saw Ron and Hermione in the crowd, beaming at Harry and simply shaking their heads in happiness.

When the team got to the stands, where Dumbledore was waiting with the enormous Quidditch Cup, they looked as if they would burst with happiness. Remus still had a tight hold of her, and she laughed along with him, only the tiniest prickle of sadness present in her lover's mind.

For the first time, she heard another's thoughts – and wholeheartedly agreed with them – as Harry raised the Cup, happy as he was, Remus thought: _James should have been here_.


	17. Trials and Tribulations

The aftermath of the match took a few weeks to dissipate, as did Severus's bad temper. He contented himself with taking his frustration out on his students, setting ever more rigorous homework as summer marched on, and devising intricately difficult exams in the cool air of the Dungeons.

The rest of school were, however, celebrating – apparently along with the weather; as June approached, the days became cloudless and sultry, and all anybody felt like doing was strolling into the grounds and flopping down on the grass with several pints of iced pumpkin juice, perhaps playing a casual game of Gobstones or watching the giant squid propel itself dreamily across the surface of the lake.

But they couldn't. The exams were nearly upon them, and instead of lazing about outside, the students were forced to remain inside the castle, trying to bully their brains into concentrating while enticing wafts of summer air drifted in through the windows – and of course the staff had to remain indoors to keep an eye on them. Even Fred and George Weasley had been spotted working; they were about to take their OWLs (Ordinary Wizarding Levels). Percy was getting ready to sit his NEWTs (Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests), the highest qualification Hogwarts offered. As Percy hoped to enter the Ministry of Magic, he needed top grades. He was becoming increasingly edgy, and gave very severe punishments to anybody who disturbed the quiet of the common room in the evenings. In fact, the only person who seemed more anxious than Percy was Hermione.

Even Amelia had taken to avoiding her cousin as she became crabbier the closer the exams crept. For her part, she had prepared a series of written, aural and visual tests, ranging from Muggle history to popular culture. Remus, she understood, had prepared practical tests for all his classes.

Exam week began and Amelia kept a close eye on her cousin. An unnatural hush had fallen on the castle, allowing many of the staff to catch up on their reading in the unaccustomed quiet.

The third-years emerged from Transfiguration at lunchtime on Monday limp and ashen-faced, comparing results and bemoaning the difficulty of the tasks they had been set, which had included turning a teapot into a tortoise. Hermione irritated the rest by fussing about how her tortoise had looked more like a turtle, which was the least of everyone else's worries.

"Mine still had a spout for a tail, what a nightmare…"

"Were the tortoises _supposed_ to breathe steam?"

"It still had a willow-patterned shell, d'you think that'll count against me?"

That evening, amongst much hilarity, Amelia showed Remus a note from Hermione about how Harry had overdone his Cheering Charm somewhat out of nerves and Ron, who was partnering him, ended up in fits of hysterical laughter and had to be led away to a quiet room for an hour before he was allowed to perform the charm himself.

After the third years took Severus's potions exam he had entered the staffroom cackling vindictively and many of his colleagues had since given him a wide berth (and a series of worried looks).

Amelia watched the third-years taking Lupin's exam from the greenhouses, where she was helping Pomona set up her next exam.

He had prepared a sort of educational assault course, where they had to wade across a deep paddling pool containing a Grindylow, cross a series of potholes full of Red Caps, squish their way across a patch of marsh, ignoring the misleading directions of a Hinkypunk, then climb into an old trunk and battle with a new Boggart.

Helping Remus clear up the obstacle course, the two of them saw the grim looking group meet Harry, Ron and Hermione on the castle steps.

Amelia swore under her breath.

"They've even brought the axe! Buckbeak doesn't stand a chance."

Remus frowned, "But the appeal –"

"It doesn't look like they intend to listen."

Remus expelled his breath angrily.

"We could always release him."

"They'd think it was Hagrid. Besides," she continued, looking down towards Buckbeak, who was tethered up by Hagrid's cottage, "the great soppy beast would just come straight back."

0o0o0o0

She met her cousin after her Muggle Studies exam. Hermione was frowning, mind clearly on the appeal that must be happening in the grounds below. Even so, she managed to spare some words of encouragement for her cousin's first exam paper:

"Not a bad exam," she said, chewing her nails.

Amelia gave her arm a light slap.

"Sorry," the girl said, "it's just – Buckbeak's appeal –"

"Yeah. I saw the executioner."

"How can they do this?" she cried; Amelia put a comforting arm around her shoulder and looked at her a little hopelessly.

"Well, it's out of our hands now," she sighed. Hermione nodded unhappily.

Once her cousin had gone, Amelia settled down to mark the day's papers, knowing full well that throughout the castle, every other teacher apart from Hagrid was probably doing the same.

0o0o0o0

In the Gryffindor tower, Hermione was sat with Ron, both numb with shock at the letter they had just received. Ron was holding the offending piece of parchment and staring blankly at Hermione as Harry ran in, panting.

"Professor Trelawny," Harry panted, "just told me –"

But he stopped abruptly at the sight of their faces.

"Buckbeak lost," said Ron weakly. "Hagrid's just sent this."

Hagrid's note was dry this time, no tears had splattered it, yet his hand seemed to have shaken so much as he wrote it that it was hardly legible.

_Lost appeal. They're going to execute at sunset. Nothing you can do. Don't come down. I don't want you to see it._

_Hagrid_

"We've got to go," said Harry at once. "He can't just sit there on his own, waiting for the executioner!"

"Sunset, though," said Ron, who was staring out of the window in a glazed sort of way. "We'd never be allowed… 'specially you, Harry…"

Harry sank his head into his hands.

"If only we had the Invisibility Cloak…"

"Where is it?" Hermione asked.

Harry told her about leaving it in the passageway under the one-eyed witch.

"… if Snape sees me anywhere near there again, I'm in serious trouble," he finished.

"That's true," said Hermione, getting to her feet and reflecting that both Severus and Harry would do well to abandon certain grudges. "If he sees _you_… how do you open the witch's hump again?"

"You – you tap it and say 'Dissendium'," said Harry. "But –"

Hermione didn't wait for the rest of his sentence; she strode across the room, pushed the Fat Lady's portrait open and headed directly for the one-eyed witch.

_The trouble with boys_, she thought, as she checked that the corridor was clear, _is that they are too damn' obvious about this sort of thing. Too 'macho'._

_Far better to casually wander towards your goal than constantly be glancing over your shoulder_.

Reaching the witch, she worked quickly and swiftly returned to the common room, giving a friendly wave to Snape as he stalked past her and silently thanking whichever ancestor that had provided both herself and Amelia (and if family legend were true, Aunty Bea) with the expert thief gene. Upon her return both boys looked stunned and impressed.

"Hermione, I don't know what's got into you lately!" said Ron, astounded. "First you hit Malfoy, then you walk out on Professor Trelawny –"

Truth be told, Hermione was quite flattered.

0o0o0o0

They went down to dinner with everyone else, where they exchanged grim looks with Amelia up at the top table, but did not return to Gryffindor tower afterwards. Harry had the Cloak hidden down the front of his robes; he had to keep his arms folded to hide the lump. They skulked in an empty chamber off the Entrance Hall, listening, until they were sure it was deserted. They heard a last couple of people hurrying across the hall, and a door slamming. Hermione, fed up of waiting, poked her head around the door.

"Ok," she whispered, "no-one there – Cloak on –"

Walking very close together so that nobody would see them, they crossed the hall on tiptoe beneath the Cloak, then walked down the stone steps into the grounds. The sun was already sinking behind the Forbidden Forest, gilding the top branches of the trees.

They reached Hagrid's cabin and knocked. He was a minute in answering, and when he did, he looked all around for his visitor, pale-faced and trembling.

"It's us," Harry hissed. "We're wearing the Invisibility Cloak. Let us in and we can take it off."

"Yeh shoudn've come!" Hagrid whispered, but he stood back, and they stepped inside. Hagrid shut the door quickly and Harry pulled off the Cloak.

Hagrid was not crying, nor did he throw himself upon their necks. He looked like a man who did not know where he was or what to do. This helplessness was worse to watch than tears.

"Wan' some tea?" he said. His great hands were shaking as he reached for the kettle.

"Where's Buckbeak, Hagrid?" Hermione asked, hesitantly.

"I – I took him outside," said Hagrid, spilling milk all over the table as he filled up the jug. "He's tethered in me pumpkin patch. Thought he ought to see the trees an' – an' smell fresh air – before –"

Hagrid's hand trembled so violently that the milk jug slipped from his grasp and shattered all over the floor.

"I'll do it, Hagrid," said Hermione quickly, hurrying over and starting to clean up the mess; she felt a little better with something to do, but not much.

"There's another one in the cupboard," Hagrid said, sitting down and wiping his forehead on his sleeve. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Harry and Ron glance at each other hopelessly.

"Isn't there anything anyone can do, Hagrid?" Harry asked fiercely, sitting down next to him. "Dumbledore –"

"He's tried," said Hagrid. "He's got no power ter overrule the Committee. He told 'em Buckbeak's all right, but they're scared… you know what Lucius Malfoy's like… threatened 'em, I expect… an' the executioner, Macnair, he's an old pal o' Malfoy's… but it'll be quick an' clean… an' I'll be beside him…"

Hagrid swallowed. His eyes were darting all over the cottage, as though looking for some shred of hope or comfort.

As she worked, Hermione could feel tears welling up inside her; Hagrid was such a kind man and there was nothing they could do to help him.

"Dumbledore's gonna come down while it – while it happens. Wrote me this mornin'. Said he wants ter – ter be with me. Great man, Dumbledore…"

Hermione, who had been rummaging in Hagrid's cupboard for another milk jug, let out a small, quickly stifled sob.

_I wish Mel was here_, she thought, unhappily. _She'd know what to do_.

She straightened up with the new jug in her hands, fighting back tears.

"We'll stay with you too, Hagrid," she began, but Hagrid shook his shaggy head.

"Yeh're to go back up ter the castle. I told yeh, I don' wan' yeh watchin'. An' yeh shoudn' be down here anyway… if Fudge an' Dumbledore catch yeh out without permission, Harry, yeh'll be in big trouble.

Silent tears were now streaming down Hermione's face, but she hid them from Hagrid, unable to stop them. Instead, she bustled around making tea.

As she picked up the milk bottle to pour some into the new jug, she caught a movement at the bottom of the vessel and shrieked.

Startled and suddenly feeling very girly, she blushed and cried out:

"Ron! I – I don't believe it – it's _Scabbers_!"

Ron gaped at her.

"What are you talking about?"

She carried the milk jug over to the table and turned it upside-down. With a frantic squeak, and much scrambling to get back inside, Scabbers the rat came sliding out onto the table.

"Scabbers!" said Ron blankly. "Scabbers, what are you doing here?"

He grabbed the struggling rat and held him up to the light. Hermione felt a pang of guilt – had Crookshanks scared Scabbers this badly? He looked dreadful. He was thinner than ever, large tufts of hair had fallen out leaving wide bald patches, and he writhed in Ron's hands as though desperate to free himself.

"It's ok, Scabbers!" said Ron. "No cats! There's nothing here to hurt you!"

Hagrid suddenly stood up, his eyes fixed on the window. His normally ruddy face had gone the colour of parchment.

"They're comin'…"

The three of them whipped around. A group of men were walking down the distant castle steps. In front was Albus Dumbledore, his silver beard gleaming in the dying sun. Next to him trotted Cornelius Fudge. Behind them came the feeble old Committee member and the executioner, MacNair.

"Yeh gotta go," said Hagrid. Every inch of him was trembling; Hermione had the sudden urge to hug the half-giant. "They mustn' find yeh here… go on, now…"

Ron stuffed Scabbers into his pocket and Hermione picked up the Cloak; it felt like her limbs were moving through treacle.

"I'll let yeh out the back way," said Hagrid.

They followed him to the door into his back garden. Hermione felt strangely unreal, and even more so when she saw Buckbeak a few yards away, tethered to a tree behind Hagrid's pumpkin patch. Both Harry and Ron were pale and wearing identical frowns, deepened by the fading light. Buckbeak seemed to know something was happening. He turned his sharp head from side to side, and pawed the ground anxiously.

"It's ok, Beaky," said Hagrid softly. "It's ok…" He turned to Hermione, Ron and Harry. "Go, on," he said. "Get goin'."

But they didn't move.

"Hagrid, we can't –"

"We'll tell them what really happened –"

"They can't kill him –"

"Go!" said Hagrid fiercely. "It's bad enough without you lot in trouble an' all!"

They had no choice. As Hermione threw the Cloak over Harry and Ron, they heard voiced at the front of the cabin. Hagrid looked at the place where they had just vanished from sight.

"Go quick," he said hoarsely. "Don' listen…"

Slowly, in a kind of horrified trance, the three of them set off silently around Hagrid's cottage. As they reached the other side, the front door closed with a sharp snap.

All at once, the reality of the situation hit Hermione and she felt sick; they were moving too slowly.

"Please, let's hurry," she whispered. "I can't stand it, I can't bear it…"

They started up the sloping lawn towards the castle. The sun was sinking fast now; the sky had turned to a clear, purple-tinged grey, but to the west there was a ruby-red glow.

_Red sky at night, shepherd's delight_, Hermione thought, involuntarily.

Ron stopped dead.

"Oh, please, Ron," Hermione began.

"It's Scabbers – he won't – stay put –"

Ron was bent over, trying to keep Scabbers in his pocket, but the rat was going beserk; squeaking madly, twisting and flailing, trying to sink his teeth into Ron's hand.

"Scabbers, it's me, you idiot, it's Ron," he hissed.

They heard a door open behind them and men's voices.

"Oh Ron, please let's move, they're going to do it!" Hermione breathed.

"Ok – Scabbers, stay _put_ –"

They walked forwards; Hermione tried desperately not the listen to the rumble of voices behind them. She glanced at Harry, who had been silent since they left the cottage; he looked back at her unhappily. Ron stopped again.

"I can't hold him – Scabbers, shut up – everyone'll hear us!"

The rat was squealing wildly, but not loudly enough to cover up the sounds drifting from Hagrid's garden. There was a jumble of indistinct male voices, a silence and then, without warning, the unmistakeable swish and thud of an axe.

Hermione swayed on the spot, shocked.

"They did it!" she whispered. "I d-don't believe it – they did it!"

0o0

Her mind went numb; it was as if she couldn't fit what she'd just heard into her head. Unconsciously, she put her hand to her throat and swallowed, hard. The three of them stood transfixed with horror under the Invisibility Cloak. The very last rays of the setting sun were casting a bloody light over the long-shadowed grounds. Then, behind them, they heard a wild howling.

"Hagrid," Harry muttered. Apparently without thought, he made to turn back, but both Ron and Hermione seized his arms.

"We can't," said Ron, who was paper-white. "He'll be in worse trouble if they know we've been to see him…"

Hermione's breathing was shallow and uneven.

"How – could – they?" she choked. "How _could_ they?" In her mind that terrible swish and thunk of the axe was playing over and over.

"Come on," said Ron, whose teeth appeared to be chattering.

They set off back towards the castle, walking slowly to keep themselves hidden under the Cloak. Light was fading fast now. By the time they reached open ground, darkness was settling like a heavy woollen blanket around them.

"Scabbers, keep still," Ron hissed, clamping his hand over his chest. The rat was wriggling around frantically. Ron came to a sudden halt, trying to force Scabbers deeper into his pocket. What's the matter with you, you stupid rat? Stay still – OUCH! He bit me!"

"Ron, be quiet!" Hermione whispered urgently. "Fudge'll be here any minute –"

"He won't – stay – put –"

Scabbers was plainly terrified. He was writhing with all his might, trying to break free of Ron's grasp.

"What's the _matter_ with him?"

But Hermione had just seen – slinking towards them, his body low to the ground, wide yellow eyes glinting eerily in the darkness – Crookshanks. Hermione froze. Surely he couldn't see them under the Cloak – he must be following the sounds of Scabbers's terrified squeaks.

"Crookshanks!" she moaned. "No, go away, Crookshanks! Go away!"

But the cat was getting nearer –

"Scabbers – NO!"

Too late – the rat had slipped between Ron's clutching fingers, hit the ground and scampered away. In one bound, Crookshanks sprang after him, and before Hermione or Harry could stop him, Ron had thrown the Invisibility Cloak off himself and pelted away into the darkness.

"_Ron_!" Hermione moaned.

She and Harry looked at each other, then followed at a sprint; it was impossible to run full out under the Cloak; they pulled it off and it streamed behind them like a banner as they hurtled after Ron; they could hear his feet thundering along ahead, and his shouts at Crookshanks.

"Get away from him – get away – Scabbers, come _here_ –"

There was a loud thud.

"_Gotcha!_ Get off you stinking cat –"

Hermione and Harry almost fell over Ron; they skidded to a halt right in front of him. He was sprawled on the ground, Crookshanks scratching at him, but Scabbers was back in his pocket; he had both hands held tight over the quivering lump.

"Ron – come on – back under the Cloak –" Hermione panted, pulling Crookshanks off Ron's legs by the scruff of his neck and throwing him a little way away from them. The orange ball of fury hissed at her in the darkness. "Dumbledore – the Minister – they'll be coming back out in a minute –"

But before they could cover themselves up again, before they could even catch their breath, they heard the soft pounding of gigantic paws. Something was bounding towards them out of the dark – an enormous, pale-eyed, jet-black dog.

Hermione gasped and reached for her wand. She felt a rush of air beside her as the great dog hit Harry full in the chest; she stumbled back in terror, afraid to see what those long, cruel teeth had done to her friend.

But the force of its leap had carried it too far; it rolled off Harry, who struggled to stand, gasping for breath. Hermione could hear it growling as it skidded around for a second attack.

Ron was on his feet. As the dog sprang towards them, he pushed Harry aside; the dog's jaws fastened instead around Ron's outstretched arm. Hermione smelled, rather than saw, the deep crimson beads of blood on his arm form rivulets as he cried out. Harry lunged at the dog and seized a handful of the brute's hair, but it was dragging Ron away as easily as if he were a rag-doll –

Out of nowhere, something rushed through the air – she heard Harry cry out in pain, seconds before something heavy thudded against her stomach with great force. On the ground, she coughed and wheezed, lungs burning from the force of the impact. Somewhere nearby Harry had lit his wand, lighting the trunk of a thick tree; they had chased Scabbers into the shadow of the Whomping Willow and it branches were creaking as if in a high wind, whipping backwards and forwards to stop them going nearer.

And there, at the base of the trunk, was the dog, dragging Ron backwards into a large gap in the roots – Ron was fighting furiously, but his head and torso were slipping out of sight –

"Ron!" Harry shouted, trying to run forward, but a heavy branch whipped lethally through the air and threw him backwards.

All they could see now was one of Ron's legs, which he had hooked around a root in an effort to stop the dog pulling him further underground. Then a horrible crack cut the air like a gunshot; Ron's leg had broken, and the next second, his foot had vanished from sight.

"Harry – we've got to go for help –" she cried, helplessly, as she felt blood trickling down her arm; Amelia would know that she was in trouble by now.

"No! That thing's big enough to eat him, we haven't got time!"

"We're never going to get through without help –" She felt like screaming at him; as much as she wanted to help Ron, she couldn't understand Harry's insistence on always doing things alone.

Another branch whipped down at them, twigs clenched like knuckles.

"If that dog can get in, we can," Harry panted, darting here and there, trying to find a way through the vicious, swishing branches, but he couldn't get an inch nearer to the tree-roots without being in the range of the tree's branches.

"Oh, help, help," Hermione whispered frantically, dancing uncertainly on the spot and desperately hoping that the same connection that had sent Amelia hurtling across their small town two summers ago would bring her to their aid now, "please…"

Crookshanks darted forwards. He slithered between the battering branches like a snake and placed his front paws upon a knot on the trunk.

Abruptly, as though the tree had been turned to marble, it stopped moving. Not a leaf twitched or shook.

_What the hell?_ She thought and grasped Harry's arm. "How did he know?"

"He's friends with that dog," said Harry grimly. "I've seen them together. Come on – and keep your wand out –"

They covered the distance to the trunk in seconds, but before they had reached the gap in the roots, Crookshanks had slid into it with a flick of his bottle-brush tail. Harry went next; he crawled forwards and disappeared. Hermione followed him and slipped headfirst down an earthy slope to the bottom of a very low tunnel. Crookshanks was a little way along, his eyes flashing from the light of their wands.

"Where's Ron?" she whispered, hearing the fear in her own voice.

"This way," said Harry, setting off, bent-backed after Crookshanks.

She couldn't understand her cat – first he helped the dog, then he helped them; what side was he on, anyway?

"Where does this tunnel come out?" she asked, out-of-breath.

"I don't know," Harry replied from in front of her. "It's marked on the Marauders' Map but Fred and George said no one's ever got into it. It goes off the edge of the map, but it looks like it ends up in Hogsmeade…"

They moved as fast as they could, bent almost double; ahead of them, Crookshank's tail bobbed in and out of view. On and on went the passage; Hermione could well believe that this could take them all the way to Hogsmeade. All she could think of was Ron, and what the enormous dog might be doing to him. They were both drawing breath in sharp, painful gasps, running at a crouch…

And then the tunnel began to rise; moments later it twisted, and Crookshanks had gone. Instead, Hermione could see a patch of dim light through a small opening.

She and Harry paused, gasping for breath, edging forwards. Both raised their wands to see what lay beyond.

It was a room, they discovered, a very disordered, dusty room. Paper was peeling from the walls; there were stains all over the floor; every piece of furniture was broken as though somebody had smashed it. The windows were all boarded-up.

Harry glanced at her, she swallowed and nodded; they had to find Ron, and quickly.

Harry pulled himself out of the hole and stared around before turning and helping Hermione up. The room was deserted, but a door to their right stood open, leading to a shadowy hallway. A sinking feeling crept over Hermione and she grabbed Harry's arm again, her wide eyes travelling around the boarded windows.

"Harry," she whispered miserably. "I think we're in the Shrieking Shack."

Harry blanched and looked around; he indicated a pile of shattered furniture in the corner of the room.

"Ghosts didn't do that," he said slowly.

At that moment, there was a creak overhead. Something had moved upstairs. Both of them looked up at the ceiling. Harry raised his eyebrows at Hermione, who realised that she still had his arm in a death grip and released him, embarrassed.

Quietly as they could, they crept out into the hall and up the crumbling staircase. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust except the floor, where a wide, shiny stripe had been made by something being dragged upstairs.

_Ron_.

They reached the dark landing.

"_Nox_," they whispered together, and the lights at the end of their wands went out. Only one door was open, and it barely a crack. As they crept towards it, they heard movement from behind it; a low moan and a deep, loud purring. They exchanged a last look, a last nod.

Wand held before him, Harry kicked the door wide open.

On a magnificent four-poster bed with dusty hangings lay Crookshanks, purring loudly at the sight of them. On the floor beside him, clutching his leg, which stuck out at an odd angle, was Ron.

Hermione and Harry dashed across to him.

"Ron – are you ok?"

"Where's the dog?"

"Not a dog," Ron moaned. His teeth were gritted with pain. "Harry, it's a trap –"

"What –"

"_He's the dog… he's an Animagus…_"


	18. Betrayal

Ron was staring over their shoulders. They wheeled around.

With a snap, the man in the shadows closed the door behind them.

A mass of filthy, matted hair hung to his elbows. If eyes hadn't been shining out of the deep, dark sockets, he might have been a corpse. The waxy skin was stretched so tightly over the bones of his face, it looked like a skull. His yellow teeth were bared in a grin. It was Sirius Black.

"_Expelliarmus!_" he croaked, pointing Ron's wand at them.

Hermione and Harry's wands shot out of their hands, high in the air and Black caught them. Then he took a step closer. His eyes were fixed on Harry.

"I thought you'd come and help your friend," he said hoarsely. His voice sounded as thought he had long ago lost the habit of using it. "Your father would have done the same for me. Brave of you, not to run for a teacher. I'm grateful… it will make everything much easier…"

A dark shadow passed over Harry's face and he started forward; Hermione grabbed him and held him back.

"No Harry!" she gasped in a petrified whisper – she was certain that if she were to let him go it would be to his death.

Ron, who had a hold of Harry's other arm, spoke to Black.

"If you want to kill Harry, you'll have to kill us, too!" he said fiercely, though the effort of standing up had drained him of still more colour and he swayed slightly as he spoke.

Hermione could have sworn that she saw something flicker in Black's shadowed eyes.

"Lie down," he said quietly to Ron. "You will damage that leg even more."

"Did you hear me?" Ron said weakly, though he was now leaning heavily on Harry to stay upright. "You'll have to kill all three of us!"

Hermione tried desperately to school her features into something menacing, but felt that she was fighting a losing battle there and gave up.

"There'll only be one murder here tonight," said Black, and that evil grin of his widened.

"Why's that?" Harry spat, trying to wrench himself free of Hermione and Ron. "Didn't care last time, did you? Didn't mind slaughtering all those Muggles to get to Pettigrew… what's the matter, gone soft in Azkaban?"

"Harry," Hermione whimpered, suddenly afraid that her friend had lost his mind. "Be quiet!"

"HE KILLED MY MUM AND DAD!" Harry roared, and with a huge effort he broke free of Hermione and Ron's restraint and lunged forwards, catching Black off balance and propelling them both into the wall.

Hermione heard herself scream; Ron was yelling; the wands in Black's hand sent a jet of sparks into the air, missing Harry's face by inches; Black was twisting madly beneath Harry, trying to break free, but Harry clung on, desperately, his free hand punching every part of Black that he could find.

But Black's free hand had found Harry's throat –

"No," he hissed. "I've waited too long –"

His fingers whitened as they tightened around Harry's neck; Harry choked, his glasses askew.

Making her mind up in an instant, and using tactics she'd learned from her cousin, Hermione kicked Black in the face, hard. At the same time Ron threw himself onto Black's wand hand and knocked the wands to the floor, using his weight to stop Black from grabbing at them. Hermione was employing full playground tactics now and scratched and bit at Black's arm and face until he let her friend go.

Harry pulled himself free of the tangle of bodies and launched himself towards it –

"Argh!"

Crookshanks had joined the fray, apparently on Black's side; he had sunk his claws into Harry's arm, who threw him off – Crookshanks went for Harry's wand but Harry shouted and kicked him out of the way.

"GET OUT OF THE WAY!" he shouted as Ron and Hermione.

They didn't need telling twice. Hermione, gasping for breath, scrambled aside and snatched up her own and Ron's wands; she could taste blood in her mouth and her lip was throbbing where Black had caught her. Ron crawled to the four-poster and collapsed onto it, panting, his white face now tinged with green, both hands clutching his broken leg.

Black was sprawled at the bottom of the wall. His thin chest rose and fell rapidly as he watched Harry walking slowly nearer, his wand pointing straight at Black's heart.

"Going to kill me, Harry?" he whispered.

Harry stopped right above him, his wand still pointing at Black's chest, looking down at him. A livid bruise was rising around Black's left eye and his nose was bleeding.

_This is wrong_, thought Hermione, with unfamiliar intensity.

"You killed my parents," said Harry, his voice shaking slightly, but his wand hand quite steady.

Black stared up at him out of those sunken eyes.

_Harry's going to hurt this man…_

"I don't deny it," he said, very quietly. "But if you knew the whole story –"

"The whole story?" Harry repeated, incredulous. "You sold them to Voldemort, that's all I need to know!"

Hermione looked at Harry and saw a boy she didn't know; it frightened her and she edged closer to Ron.

_Harry's going to kill this man… and it'll change him… destroy him… even if Black does deserve it…_

"You've got to listen to me," Black said, and there was a note of urgency in his voice now. "You'll regret it if you don't… you don't understand…"

…_it's the perfect way to murder Harry, to keep him alive, but force him to take his own soul away by killing someone… and then of course, Black would be free of the Dementors…_

"I understand a lot better than you think," said Harry, and his voice shook more than ever. "You never heard her, did you? My mum… trying to stop Voldemort killing me… and you did that… you did it…"

She could hear it in his voice, that edge that hadn't been there before, the glint of murder in his eye.

_Harry's going to die tonight and there's nothing I can do about it_, she thought, with unhappy clarity._ Either way, the Harry I know will be dead…_

Before anyone could say another word, something ginger streaked past Harry; Crookshanks leapt onto Black's chest and settled himself there, right over Black's heart. Black blinked and looked down at the cat.

"Get off," he murmured, trying to push Crookshanks off him.

But Crookshanks sank his claws into Black's robes and wouldn't shift. He turned his ugly, squashed face to Harry, and looked up at him with those great yellow eyes.

Hermione realised that she was going to lose two of her friends tonight and she sobbed, fingers white around the wands in her hand as she raised them. She had to stop Harry… but to incapacitate him would give Black all the time he needed to seize one of them again. She felt sick –

The seconds lengthened, and still they stood frozen in an appalling tableau: Harry, wand poised at his parents' murderer, Black staring up at him, Crookshanks on his chest; Ron's ragged breathing caught beside her as he saw Hermione, wand raised at her friend, silent, an expression of despair on her face. If Harry made a move…

And then came a new sound –

Muffled footsteps were echoing up through the floor – someone was moving downstairs.

"WE'RE UP HERE!" Hermione screamed suddenly, lowering her wand slightly. "WE'RE UP HERE – SIRIUS BLACK – _QUICK_!"

Black made a startled movement that almost dislodged Crookshanks, Harry still covering him with his wand – the footsteps were thundering up the stairs now and Harry would be safe… at least from himself.

The door of the room burst open in a shower of red sparks and Harry wheeled around as Professor Lupin came hurtling into the room, his face bloodless, his wand raised and ready. His eyes flickered over Ron, lying on the floor, over Hermione, lowering her wand next to the door, to Harry, standing there with his wand covering Black, and then to Black himself, crumpled and bleeding at Harry's feet.

"_Expelliarmus_!" Lupin shouted.

Once again, wands flew from their owners' fingers. Lupin caught them all deftly, then moved into the room, staring at Black, who still had Crookshanks lying protectively across his chest.

Hermione was suddenly intensely relieved. Harry hadn't hurt Black; Black hadn't hurt them – well, permanently anyway. He'd be taken away by the Dementors; Professor Lupin would sort everything out –

Then Lupin spoke, in an odd voice, a voice that shook with some suppressed emotion. "Where is he, Sirius?"

Hermione felt her eyes widen, what was going on? Surely Lupin wasn't – but no, Amelia trusted him… didn't she?

Black's face was quite expressionless as he stared at their Professor. For a few seconds, he didn't move at all. Then, very slowly, he raised his empty hand, and pointed straight at Ron. Mystified, Hermione and Harry both glanced at Ron, who looked equally clueless…

_Professor Lupin's gone mad_, Hermione thought, slowly; she suddenly wished that he hadn't taken their wands.

"But then…" Lupin muttered, staring at Black so intently it seemed he was trying to read his mind, "… why hasn't he shown himself before now?" Lupin's eyes suddenly widened, as though he was seeing something beyond Black, something none of the rest of them could see; Hermione's mind flashed… Ron couldn't be possessed, could he?

Awful realisation appeared to have hit their Professor, "Unless _he_ was the one… unless you switched… without telling me?"

Very slowly, his sunken gaze never leaving Lupin's face, Black nodded.

"Professor Lupin," Harry interrupted loudly, "what's going –"

But he never finished the question, because what he saw next made his voice die in his throat.

Lupin was lowering his wand. Next moment, he had walked to Black's side, seized his hand, pulled him to his feet so that Crookshanks fell to the floor, and embraced Black like a brother.

Hermione felt her insides turn to ice. He'd betrayed her, Harry, Severus, Amelia – them all! He'd betrayed Amelia. Somewhere deep inside her a growl began; blood boiling, she screamed.

"I DON'T BELIEVE IT!"

Lupin let go of Black and turned to her. She was trembling with fury and was pointing at Lupin, wild-eyed. "You – you –"

"Hermione –"

"– you and him!"

"Hermione, calm down –"

"I didn't tell anyone!" Hermione shrieked. "I've been covering up for you –

"Hermione, listen to me, please!" Lupin shouted. "I can explain –"

Harry was in front of her, shaking with venom; his cheeks were flushed and that cold, terrifying light was back in his eyes.

"I trusted you," he shouted at Lupin, his voice wavering out of control, "and all the time you've been his friend!"

"You're wrong," said Lupin. "I haven't been Sirius's friend for twelve years, but I am now… let me explain…"

"NO!" Hermione screamed, "Harry, don't trust him! He's been helping Black get inside the castle, he wants you dead too – he's a _werewolf_!"

There was a ringing silence. Everyone's eyes were now on Lupin, who looked remarkably calm, though rather pale. Hermione was glaring at Lupin with a look of pure hatred.

"Not at all up to your usual standard, Hermione," he said, quietly. "Only one out of three, I'm afraid. I have not been helping Sirius get into the castle and I certainly don't want Harry dead…" An odd shiver passed over his face. "But I won't deny that I am a werewolf."

Ron made a valiant effort to get up again, but fell back with a whimper of pain. Lupin made towards him, looking concerned, but Ron spat, "_Get away from me, werewolf!_"

Lupin stopped dead. Then, with an obvious effort, he turned to Hermione and said, "How long have you known?"

Hermione, though still furious, had realised that there were now two lunatic adult wizards against three thirteen-year-olds – she had to keep them talking… Amelia would come.

"Ages," she whispered. "Since I did Professor Snape's essay…"

"Severus will be delighted," said Lupin coolly. "He set that essay hoping someone would realise what my symptoms meant – though he has apologised since… Did you check the lunar chart and realise that I am always ill at the full moon? Or did you realise that the Boggart changed into the moon when it saw me?"

"Both," she said, quietly.

Lupin forced a laugh; it sounded hollow and menacing.

"You're the cleverest witch of your age I've ever met, Hermione – so much like your cousin."

She bridled at the taunt about Amelia. _Amelia…_

"I'm not," Hermione whispered. "If I'd been a bit cleverer, I'd have told everyone what you are!"

"But they already know," said Lupin. "At least, the staff do."

"Dumbledore hired you when he knew you were a werewolf?" Ron gasped. "Is he mad?"

"Some of the staff thought so," said Lupin. "He had to work very hard to convince certain teachers that I'm trustworthy –"

"AND HE WAS WRONG!" Harry yelled. "YOU'VE BEEN HELPING HIM ALL THE TIME!" He was pointing at Black, who had crossed to the four-poster bed and sunk onto it, his face hidden in one shaking hand. Crookshanks leapt up beside him and stepped onto his lap, purring. Ron edged away from both of them, dragging his leg.

"I have _not_ been helping Sirius," said Lupin. "If you give me a chance, I'll explain. Look –"

Hermione's mind was bridling at the thought that Amelia had known Lupin's secret and not seen fit to tell her. She was horrified that she had trusted him enough to encourage their relationship.

Lupin meanwhile, separated Hermione, Harry and Ron's wands and threw each back to its owner; Hermione caught hers, stunned.

"There," said Lupin, sticking his own wand back into his belt. "You're armed, we're not. Now will you listen?"

Hermione didn't know what to think. Was this a trick?

"If you haven't been helping him," Harry said with a furious glance at Black, "how did you know he was here?"

"The map," said Lupin. "The Marauders' Map. I was in my office, examining it –"

"You know how to work it?" asked Harry, suspiciously.

"Of course I know how to work it," said Lupin, waving his hand impatiently. "I helped to write it. I'm Moony – that was my friends' nickname for me in school."

"You _wrote_ –?"

"The important thing is, I was watching it carefully this evening, because I had an idea that the three of you might try and sneak out of the castle to visit Hagrid before his Hippogriff was executed. And I was right, wasn't I?"

Despite her anger, Hermione blushed; a teacher had caught her breaking the rules… even if he had turned out to be an evil teacher. He had started to pace up and down, looking at them. Little patches of dust rose up at his feet.

"You might have been wearing your father's old Cloak, Harry –"

"How d'you know about the Cloak?"

"The number of times I saw James disappearing under it…" said Lupin, waving an impatient hand again. "The point is, even if you're wearing an Invisibility Cloak you show up on the Marauders' Map. I watched you cross the grounds and enter Hagrid's cottage. Twenty minutes later, you left Hagrid, and set off back towards the castle. But you were now accompanied by somebody else."

"What?" said Harry. "No we weren't!"

"I couldn't believe my eyes," said Lupin, still pacing, and ignoring Harry's interruption. "I thought the map must be malfunctioning. How could he be with you?"

"No one was with us!" said Harry.

_But there was one more of us_, thought Hermione, suddenly.

"And then I saw another dot, moving fast towards you, labelled Sirius Black… I saw him collide with you. I watched as he pulled the two of you into the Whomping Willow –"

"One of us!" said Ron, angrily.

"No, Ron," said Lupin. "Two of you."

He had stopped his pacing, his eyes moving over Ron almost hungrily.

"Do you think I could have a look at the rat?" he said evenly.

"What?" said Ron. "What's Scabbers got to do with it?"

"Everything," said Lupin. "Could I see him please?"

Ron hesitated, then put a hand inside his robes. Scabbers emerged, thrashing desperately; Ron had to seize his long bald tail to stop him escaping. Crookshanks stood up on Black's lap and made a soft hissing noise.

Lupin moved closer to Ron. He seemed to be holding his breath as he gazed intently at Scabbers.

"What?" Ron said again, holding Scabbers close to him, looking scared. "What's my rat got to do with anything?"

"That's not a rat," croaked Sirius Black suddenly.

"What d'you mean – of course he's a rat –"

_What do you think he is, a bloody gerbil?_ thought Hermione, grumpily.

"No he's not," said Lupin quietly. "He's a wizard."

"An Animagus," said Black, "by the name of Peter Pettigrew."

It took a few seconds for the absurdity of this statement to sink in; then Ron voiced what Harry and Hermione were thinking.

"You're both mental."

"Ridiculous," said Hermione, faintly. If Lupin had gone as mad as he appeared to have he might do anything to them… and yet…

"Peter Pettigrew's dead!" said Harry. "He killed him twelve years ago!"

He pointed at Black, whose face twitched convulsively.

_Odd_, thought Hermione, _for someone supposedly so cruel to flinch at the mention of his crimes…_

"I meant to," he growled, his yellow teeth bared, "but little Peter got the better of me… not this time though!"

And Crookshanks was thrown to the floor as Black lunged at Scabbers; Ron yelled in pain as Black's weight fell on his broken leg.

"Sirius, NO!" yelled Lupin, launching himself forwards and dragging Black away from Ron again. "WAIT! You can't do it just like that – they need to understand – we've got to explain –"

"We can explain afterwards!" snarled Black, trying to throw Lupin off, one hand still clawing the air as it tried to reach Scabbers, who was squealing like a piglet, scratching Ron's face and neck as he tried to escape.

"They've – got – a – right – to – know – everything!" Lupin growled, still trying to restrain Black; _he doesn't look it_, thought Hermione, _but he's weirdly strong for a nerdy bloke_. "Ron's kept him as a pet! There are parts of it even I don't understand! And Harry – you owe Harry the truth, Sirius!"

Black stopped struggling, though his hollowed eyes were still fixed on Scabbers, who was clamped tightly under Ron's bitten, scratched and bleeding hands.

"All right, then," Black said, without taking his eyes off the rat. "Tell them whatever you like. But make it quick, Remus. I want to commit the murder I was imprisoned for…"

Remus gave Black a dark look.

"You're nutters, both of you," said Ron shakily, looking round at Harry and Hermione for support. "I've had enough of this, I'm off."

He tried to heave himself up on his good leg, but Lupin raised his wand again, pointing it at Scabbers.

"You're going to hear me out, Ron," he said quietly. "Just keep a tight hold on Peter while you listen.

"HE'S NOT PETER, HE'S SCABBERS!" Ron yelled, trying to force the rat back into his front pocket, but Scabbers was fighting to hard; Ron swayed and overbalanced – Hermione watched Harry catch him and push him back down on the bed. Then, ignoring Black, Harry turned to Lupin.

"There were witnesses who saw Pettigrew die," he said. "A whole street full of them…"

"They didn't see what they thought they saw!" said Black savagely, still watching Scabbers struggling in Ron's hands.

"Everyone thought that Sirius killed Peter," said Lupin, nodding. "I believed it myself – until I saw the map tonight. Because the Marauders' Map never lies… Peter's alive. Ron's holding him, Harry."

This explained it then, thought Hermione in horror. Lupin hadn't betrayed their trust; he'd gone mad, desperate to keep his old friend safe once he'd escaped from Azkaban. She shuddered, this was going to destroy Amelia; she couldn't let him do that.

"But Professor Lupin," she said, in a trembling, would-be calm sort of voice, "Scabbers can't be Pettigrew… it just can't be true… you know it can't…"

"Why can't it be true?" Lupin said calmly, as though they were in class and she had simply spotted a problem in an experiment with Grindylows. At this particular moment, Hermione found it rather patronising, but she made an effort to respond in kind.

"Because… because people would know if Peter Pettigrew had been an Animagus. We did Animagi in class with Professor McGonagall. And I looked them up when I did my homework – the Ministry keeps tabs on witches and wizards who can become animals; there's a register showing what animal they become, and their markings and things… and I went and looked Professor McGonagall up on the register, and there have only been seven Animagi this century, and Pettigrew's name wasn't on the list –"

Lupin started to laugh. Hermione frowned; this wasn't a good sign.

"Right again, Hermione!" he said. "But the Ministry never knew that there used to be three unregistered Animagi running around Hogwarts!"

"If you're going to tell them the story, get a move on, Remus," snarled Black, who was still watching Scabbers's every desperate move. "I've waited twelve years, I'm not going to wait much longer."

"All right… but you'll need to help me Pads," said Lupin, "I only know how it began…"

Lupin broke off. There had been a loud creak behind him. The bedroom door had opened of its own accord. All five of them stared at it. Then Lupin strode towards it and looked out into the landing.

"No one there…"

"This place is haunted!" said Ron.

"It's not," said Lupin, still looking at the door in a puzzled way; he sniffed the air. "The Shrieking Shack was never haunted… the screams and howls the villagers used to hear were made by me."

Pushing his greying hair out of his eyes, thought for a moment, then said, "That's where all of this starts – with my becoming a werewolf. None of this could have happened if I hadn't been bitten… and if I hadn't been so foolhardy…"

He looked sober and exhausted. Ron started to interrupt, but Hermione said, "Shh!" She was watching Lupin intently… perhaps he could still be saved.

"I was a very small boy when I received the bite. My parents tried everything, but in those days there was no cure. The Potion that Professor Snape has been making for me is a very recent discovery. It makes me safe, you see. As long as I take it in the week preceding the full moon, I keep my mind when I transform… I am able to curl up in my office, a harmless wolf, and wait for the moon to wane again.

"Before the Wolfsbane Potion was discovered, however, I became a fully fledged monster once a month. It seemed impossible that I would be able to come to Hogwarts. Other parents weren't likely to want their children exposed to me.

"But then Dumbledore became Headmaster, and he was sympathetic. He said that, as long as we took certain precautions, there was no reason I shouldn't come to school…" Lupin sighed, and looked directly at Harry. "I told you, months ago, that the Whomping Willow was planted the year I came to Hogwarts. The truth is that it was planted _because_ I had come to Hogwarts. This house –" Lupin looked miserably around the room, "- the tunnel that leads to it – they were built for my use. Once a month, I was smuggled out of the castle, into this place, to transform. The tree was placed at the tunnel mouth to stop anyone coming across me while I was dangerous.

"My transformations in those days were –were terrible. It is very painful to turn into a werewolf. I was separated from humans to bite, so I bit and scratched myself instead. The villagers heard the noise and the screaming and thought they were hearing particularly violent spirits. Dumbledore encouraged the rumour… even now, when the house has been silent for years, the villagers don't dare approach it…

"But apart from my transformations, I was happier than I had ever been in my life. For the first time ever, I had friends, three great friends. Sirius Black… Peter Pettigrew… and, of course, your father Harry – James Potter.

"Now, my three friends could hardly fail to notice that I disappeared once a month. I made up all sorts of stories. I told them my mother was ill, and that I had to go home to see her… I was terrified they would desert me the moment they found out what I was. But of course, they, like you, Hermione, worked out the truth…

"And they didn't desert me at all. Instead they did something for me that would make my transformations not only bearable, but the best times in my life. They became Animagi."

"My dad, too?" asked Harry, astounded.

"Yes indeed," said Lupin. "It took them the best part of three years to work out how to do it. Your father and Sirius here were the cleverest students in the school, and lucky they were, because the Animagus transformation can go horribly wrong – one reason the Ministry keeps a close watch on those attempting to do it. Peter needed all the help he could get from James and Sirius. Finally, in our fifth year, they managed it. They could each turn into a different animal at will."

"But how did that help you?" said Hermione, puzzled.

"They couldn't keep me company as humans, so they kept me company as animals," said Lupin. "A werewolf is only a danger to people. They sneaked out of the castle every months under James's Invisibility Cloak. They transformed… Peter, as the smallest, could slip between the Willow's attacking branches and touch the knot that freezes it. They would then slip down the tunnel and join me. Under their influence, I became less dangerous. My body was still wolfish, but my mind seemed to become less so while I was with them."

"Hurry up, Remus," snarled Black, who was still watching Scabbers with a horrible sort of hunger in his face.

"I'm getting there, Sirius, I'm getting there… well, highly exciting possibilities were open to us now we could all transform. Soon we were leaving the Shrieking Shack and roaming the school grounds and village by night. Sirius and James transformed into such large animals, they were able to keep a werewolf in check. I doubt whether any Hogwarts students ever found out more about the Hogwarts grounds and Hogsmeade than we did… And that's how we came to write the Marauders' Map, and sign it with our nicknames. Sirius is Padfoot. Peter is Wormtail. James was Prongs."

Hermione heard Harry begin to speak but cut across him.

"That was still really dangerous! Running around in the dark with a werewolf! What if you'd given the others the slip, and bitten somebody?" Despite the situation, she was still a little shocked at Lupin.

"A thought that still haunts me," he said, heavily. "And there were near misses, many of them. We laughed about them afterwards. We were young, thoughtless – carried away with our own cleverness."

"I sometimes felt guilty about betraying Dumbledore's trust, of course… he had admitted me to Hogwarts when no other headmaster would have done so, and he had no idea I was breaking the rules he had set down for my own and others' safety. He never knew I had led three fellow students into becoming Animagi illegally. But I always managed to forget my guilty feelings every time we sat down to plan our next month's adventure. And I haven't changed…"

Lupin's face had hardened, and there was self-disgust in his voice. "All this year, I have been battling with myself, wondering whether I should tell Dumbledore that Sirius was an Animagus. But I didn't do it. Why? Because I was too cowardly. It would have meant admitting that I'd betrayed his trust while I was at school, admitting that I'd led others along with me… and Dumbledore's trust has meant everything to me. He let me into Hogwarts as a boy, and he gave me a job, when I have been shunned all my adult life, unable to find paid work because of what I am. And so I convinced myself that Sirius was getting into the school using dark arts he learned from Voldemort, that being an Animagus had nothing to do with it… so, in a way, Snape's been right about me all along."

"Snape?" said Black sharply, taking his eyes off Scabbers for the first time in minutes and looking up at Lupin. "What's Snape got to do with it?"

"He's here, Sirius," said Lupin heavily. "He's teaching here as well." He looked up at Hermione, Harry and Ron.

"Professor Snape was at school with us. He fought very hard against my appointment here… he told Dumbledore that I was not to be trusted. Though I had hoped… You see, Sirius here played a trick on him which nearly killed him, a trick which involved me..."

Black made a derisive noise.

"It served him right," he sneered. "Sneaking around, trying to find out what we were up to…"

Hermione was struck by how much Snape sounded like her and the others.

"Severus was very interested in where I went every month," Lupin told them. "We were in the same year, you know, and we – er – didn't like each other very much. He especially disliked James's talent on the Quidditch pitch… anyway, Snape had seen me crossing the grounds with Madam Pomfrey one evening as she led me towards the Whomping Willow to transform. Sirius thought it would be – er – amusing, to tell Snape all he had to do was prod the knot on the tree-trunk with a long stick, and he'd be able to get in after me. Well, of course Snape tried it – if he'd got as far as this house, he'd have met a fully grown werewolf – but your father, who'd heard what Sirius had done, went after Snape and pulled him back, at great risk to his life… Snape glimpsed me, though, at the end of the tunnel. He was forbidden to tell anybody by Dumbledore, but from that time on he knew what I was…"

"So that's why Snape doesn't like you," said Harry slowly, "because he thought you were in on the joke?"

"That's right," sneered a cold voice from the wall behind Lupin.

Severus Snape was pulling off the Invisibility Cloak, his wand pointing directly at Lupin.


	19. Treachery

Hermione screamed. Black leapt to his feet. Harry jumped as though he'd received a huge electric shock.

"I found this as the base of the Whomping Willow," said Snape, throwing the Cloak aside, careful to keep his wand pointing at Lupin's chest. "Very useful, Potter, I thank you…"

Snape was slightly breathless, and he seemed torn between triumph and abject fury.

"You're wondering perhaps, how I knew you were here?" he said, his eyes glittering. "I've just been to your office, Lupin. You forgot to take your Potion tonight, so I took a gobletful along. And very lucky I did… lucky for me, I mean. Lying on your desk was a certain map… One glance at it told me all I needed to know. I saw you running along this passageway and out of sight.

"Severus –" Lupin began, but Snape overrode him.

"I've told the Headmaster again and again that you've been helping your old friend into the castle Lupin, and here's the proof. I'd almost begun to believe that Amelia's opinion of you – but here you are!" he spat. "Not even _I_ dreamed you would have the nerve to use this old place as your hideout –"

"Severus, you're making a mistake," said Lupin, urgently. "You haven't heard everything – I can explain – Sirius is not here to kill Harry –"

"Two more for Azkaban tonight," said Snape slowly, his eyes flashing with rage. "I shall be interested how Dumbledore takes this… he was quite convinced you were harmless, you know, Lupin… a _tame_ werewolf…" he took a step forward. "And then there's Amelia… poor Amelia, wanting so much to believe you were honest, but you've let her down, Lupin."

Remus tensed, and began to growl, very quietly; behind him, Sirius looked confused for the first time.

"Severus, you leave her out of this," the werewolf growled.

"As I said once before, she is my friend… and you have been just as treacherous now as you were in school. Remember Lily?"

Sirius stared at his old friend.

"Lily?" he asked, slowly.

"You fool," growled Lupin softly. "Is a schoolboy grudge worth putting an innocent man back inside Azkaban?"

BANG! Thin, snake-like cords burst from the end of Snape's wand and twisted themselves around Lupin's mouth, wrists and ankles; he overbalanced and fell to the floor, unable to move. With a roar of rage, Black started towards Snape, but Snape pointed his wand straight between Black's eyes.

"Give me a reason," he whispered. "Give me a reason to do it and I swear I will."

Black stopped dead. It would have been impossible to say which face showed more hatred.

Harry and Ron were watching all this with wide eyes, entirely bewildered; Hermione though, took a hesitant step forward. She had to believe, for Amelia's sake, that Remus had been honest – and despite her own anger she disliked the way that Severus was treating him. She had begun to think of them both as the most bizarre pair of uncles imaginable… she had to try.

"Professor Snape," she began breathlessly. "It – it wouldn't hurt to hear what they've got to say, w-would it?"

"Miss Granger, you are already facing suspension from this school," Snape snapped, his eyes still on Black. "You, Potter and Weasley are out of bounds, in the company of a convicted murderer and a werewolf. For once in your life, _hold your tongue_!"

"But if – if there _was_ a mistake…"

But Snape was beyond reaching, his hatred of Black and the keen sense of betrayal he felt on behalf of himself and Amelia was coursing through him.

"KEEP QUIET, YOU STUPID GIRL!" he shouted, looking suddenly quite deranged. "DON'T TALK ABOUT WHAT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!" A few sparks shot out of the end of his wand, which was still pointing at Black's face. Hermione fell silent, afraid of what she might make him do.

"Vengeance is very sweet," Snape breathed at Black. "How I hoped I would be the one to catch you…"

"The joke's on you again, Severus," snarled Black. "As long as this boy brings his rat up to the castle –" he jerked his head at Ron, "- I'll come quietly…"

"Up to the castle?" said Snape silkily. "I don't think we need to go that far. All I have to do is call the Dementors once we get out of the Willow. They'll be very pleased to see you Black… pleased enough to give you a little kiss, I daresay…"

What little colour there was in Black's face left it; on the floor, Remus renewed his struggle with the ropes that bound him.

"You – you've got to hear me out," Black croaked. "The rat – look at the rat –"

But there was a glint in Snape's eye that Hermione had never seen before. He seemed beyond reason.

"Come on, all of you," he said. He clicked his fingers, and the ends of the cords that bound Lupin flew to his hands. "I'll drag the werewolf."

To Hermione's surprise, Harry moved swiftly across the room and blocked the door.

"Get out of the way, Potter, you're in enough trouble already," snarled Snape. "If I hadn't been here to save your skin –"

"Professor Lupin could have killed me about a hundred times this year," Harry said. "I've been alone with him loads of times, having defence lessons against the Dementors. If he was helping Black, why didn't he just finish me off then?"

"Don't ask me to fathom the way a werewolf's mind works," Snape hissed. "Get out of the way, Potter."

"YOU'RE PATHETIC!" Harry yelled. "JUST BECAUSE THEY MADE A FOOL OF YOU AT SCHOOL YOU WON'T EVEN LISTEN –"

"SILENCE! I WILL NOT BE SPOKEN TO LIKE THAT!" Snape shouted, deeply offended. "Like father, like son, Potter! I have just saved your neck, you should be thanking me on bended knee! You would have been well served if he'd killed you! You'd have died like your father, too arrogant to believe you might be mistaken in Black – now get out of the way, or I will _make_ you, GET OUT OF THE WAY POTTER!"

0o0o0o0

Amelia finished off the last of the third year papers with a flourish and a yawn. Stretching, she rose, before gathering up the pile and heading down the main staircase to Minerva's office. As she waited for the staircase in front of her to decide where it was going, she looked out over the lake. The sun was setting, spilling blood red light over the darkening grounds. She shivered; in all likelihood, Buckbeak was dying out there, somewhere in the crimson tide of darkness.

Sickened, she continued towards the deputy headmistress's quarters and knocked lightly on the wood.

"Come in."

Amelia pushed the door open with her shoulder and deposited the sheaf of exam papers on a specially cleared shelf. There were already a few stacks of papers in random positions.

Minerva McGonagall was stood by the window, looking out to the sunset. Sighing, the older witch turned to her.

"Forgive me, I was just thinking about Rubeus."

Amelia nodded.

"Perhaps we should go down tomorrow to see he's alright, he seems awfully attached to Beaky," she shrugged helplessly. "It seems so cruel to ask for his death… If the boy had only paid attention to Hagrid's instructions instead of trying to impress his cronies then none of this would have happened," she finished, hotly.

Minerva, who had of course taken the view that Hagrid should have kept a closer eye on his students, had to agree. She sat down heavily in her chair.

"I'd best be off," said Amelia sadly. "I promised Remus I'd sit with him tonight."

Minerva smiled at her.

"You're good for him, you know – and he for you. It's pleasant to see the two of you so happy."

Amelia grinned, despite herself.

"As you're heading that way, would you mind taking him Martin's scripts for second marking?"

"No problem," smiled the younger witch, picking up a hefty stack of Ancient Runes papers before bidding Minerva a good night and, more cheerful at the prospect of spending time with Remus, heading out of the door humming to herself.

Minerva watched her go, sadly. It had been a long time since she and Timothy had first sorted themselves out, but she could see herself in this young witch, and her relationship with Remus brought back bittersweet memories of her own courtship. Wearily, she put down her emerald green quill and steepled her fingers.

Having Remus around was also a reminder of his school friends. Oh, she'd been exasperated by their constant pranks (and privately certain that Remus had been the mastermind behind a lot of them), and they'd provoked her fury on more than one occasion, but she'd been secretly proud of them in their day. Then there had been dear, sweet Lily Evans; kind, studious, a diligent prefect – but also prepared to turn her brilliant mind to mischief. Minerva chuckled as she recalled disciplining her for a mysterious cloud of taunting and spitting hummingbirds that had somehow taken up residence around the head of a seventh-year Slytherin that had had the misfortune to call Lily a mud-blood. She had taken her punishment with a small smile and a sparkle in her eye that the two women had shared happily.

Sniffing, Minerva extracted her handkerchief from the desk drawer and blew her nose.

Such good people, she thought sadly, all destroyed by one boy's lust for power.

She missed them all terribly.

0o0o0o0

It took approximately three minutes for Amelia's good mood to dissipate. Three Ravenclaw fourth-years, caught up in the excitement of having finished their exams, came sprinting around a corner and knocked Amelia, along with Martin's exam papers, flying. They were clearly very sorry, so she let them off with a carpeting before collecting up the papers with bad grace and stomping up the stairs.

The castle was quiet in the post-exam hush and Amelia could hear the soft puffs of the lanterns around her bursting to life. It was a little eerie; she quickened her pace.

All of a sudden, she felt the cold prickle of fear that meant Hermione was afraid shiver down her back.

Convincing herself that her cousin had, as expected, stolen out of the castle to be with Hagrid during Buckbeak's execution she steeled herself before hurrying forward. This unease plainly meant that the dreadful act had been committed; Amelia felt the need to be near Remus, and to have him tell her that everything would be all right. Hermione, she knew, would have Harry and Ron by her side.

It was all that she could do not to run.

As she hurried to the last corner before Remus's office she was knocked backwards in a swirl of black robes and exam papers. Winded, Amelia looked up in time to see a pale and breathless Severus set off at a sprint.

Finding herself unexpectedly on her arse for the second time that evening – and more than a little alarmed at the countenance of her friend – she shouted after him angrily. So intent was he on his purpose that he didn't seem to hear her.

Swearing, Amelia picked herself up and rubbed her arse. That had _hurt_.

Gathering up the papers once more, she wondered what could possess her sombre friend to move at such a high speed.

_Probably escaping from Sybill_, she mused.

Huffily, she nudged open the door to Remus's office.

_Funny_, she thought, _that lamp's gone over_.

"Remus?" she called.

She glanced at the desk. The steaming goblet of Wolfsbane was still there, untouched.

Slowly, she put the pile of scripts down on a chair and walked around the desk, eyes on the Potion; a dark sense of foreboding was settling on her stomach and she was strongly reminded of that awful night two summers back, when she'd pelted through the streets of her home town, desperately afraid of what she might find.

Remus had knocked his inkwell over in his haste to leave, so she righted that and the lamp, absently replacing the spilled ink with a flick of her wand.

The Marauders' Map lay open in front of her; tensely she watched Severus pause by the Whomping Willow before running along the tunnel marked alongside it and disappearing off the edge of the map.

That settled it, really. Hermione and her friends were in trouble, and Remus and Severus had seen them on the Map.

_Hermione is in trouble._

Amelia sped through the corridors of the castle at a pace that would have surprised her colleagues.

_Hermione is in trouble, and so is Remus_.

The warm air hit her as she crossed the courtyard, her footsteps heavy on the wooden bridge leading into the grounds.

_Hermione is in trouble and it's probably Black_.

Soil and twigs flew up around her as she tore across the grounds towards the Whomping Willow, which cast an eerily still silhouette in the moonlight.

She slowed, stopping where she judged the range of the great tree ended, breathing heavily.

_Hermione is in trouble, and probably in the same room as a mass murderer_.

Her face set and she strode forward with determination. Whatever it was that had allowed Severus and her cousin's entry into the tunnel held for Amelia too, but only just – her feet had barely touched the soft earth of the tunnel when an enormous branch smacked into the entrance behind her head.

Amelia ran along the tunnel, bent almost double.

_Hermione is in _trouble_._

Behind her, she could hear the sound of the great tree's branches punish the earth around it until, apparently satisfied, the noises ceased.

_Remus is in trouble, probably with Hermione_.

She ran on. The tunnel seemed to be an endless tube of rock and dust; she felt her chest tighten as her claustrophobia kicked in. Ignoring it as best she could, she pressed on.

_Hermione and Remus are in trouble_.

After what seemed like an age she saw a pale light ahead; she drew her wand and climbed through the dusty opening.

Amelia barely had time to register the splintered furniture and stained floor as she heard raised voices ring out from above her.

_Hermione._

She rushed up the stairs.

Severus's voice could be heard clearly now.

"GET OUT OF THE WAY POTTER!"

"Expelliarmus!"

The moment before Amelia kicked the door open a rush of magic flew across the dusty room in front of her. There was a blast that made the door rattle on its hinges; Severus was lifted off his feet and slammed into the wall, then slid down it to the floor, a trickle of blood oozing from under his hair. He had been knocked out cold.

Wand up, Amelia moved into the room, looking from Severus against the wall, to Remus bound and struggling at her feet, to the children stood around the bed, and in front of her, Sirius Black. It occurred to her that as Black appeared to be unarmed Hermione or her friends must have disarmed Severus.

She kept her wand and eyes fixed on Black; pale, filthy and gaunt as he was, he looked shaken.

She was aware that the children were staring at her.

"Hermione?"

"I'm ok," replied the younger witch anxiously, "and so's Harry… I think Ron's leg's broken."

Amelia nodded.

"Untie Remus, please."

Hermione crossed the room and bent down to free her Professor.

"I take it you three had a good reason for knocking Severus out?" she said evenly.

"He'd gone mad," said Harry quietly.

"You shouldn't have done that," said Black, looking at Harry. "You should have left him to me."

Amelia shuddered. Hermione had untied Remus and returned to Ron's side a little too quickly for Amelia's taste. She was muttering "We attacked a teacher, we attacked a teacher," under her breath, over and over.

She glanced at Remus.

"You alright?"

"Just a few bruises… Amelia, lower your wand," he said, carefully.

Bewildered, Amelia risked another look at him. He had his hands up in a placating manner; the fear in her stomach curled into a knot.

"I most certainly will not!"

"Please – just let me explain –"

"Remus, your stories are taking too long," growled Black.

"Shut up, Sirius!" he snapped, urgently.

Amelia's eyes flicked rapidly between the two men.

"Sirius?" she asked, and took a step backwards, staggered. "Remus –" she pleaded.

"Really Mel, I can explain –" he said, desperation in his voice. Black looked from Remus to Amelia, something akin to curiosity in his dark eyes.

She shook her head in horror.

"All those times you told me you hated him for what he'd done, and I _believed_ you!"

"Amelia, please –"

"_I comforted you, you lying bastard!_" she spat.

"Mel –"

Her voice was far softer now; Amelia looked him dead in the eye.

"You should know, Lupin, that if you hurt my cousin, I _will_ kill you."

There was an icy silence. Black was now staring between Amelia and his old friend; she could hear Ron's ragged breathing from the bed to her right.

Remus's shoulders had sagged and his eyes were closed.

He looked, Hermione said later, as if his entire world had collapsed.

He straightened up and addressed Harry instead, voice terse.

"Thank you."

"I want you three to go back up to the castle," Amelia said over her shoulder. "Fetch anyone you can find – I'll stay here and watch these two."

Black took a step towards her.

"That boy's not taking his rat anywhere," he hissed threateningly.

The tip of her wand was touching his chest now; Amelia realised with painful clarity that if he wanted to, Black could simply reach up and take it from her… but why wasn't he? Remus pushed him back, placing himself between Black and the point of her wand.

"Don't."

"Remus –"

"Please."

"Twelve years!" he moaned.

"I know," Lupin sighed and turned to face her.

"I give you my word, Amelia, that neither Sirius nor I will harm you or any of the children."

She swallowed.

"I don't know how much your word's worth any more."

"I promise you, no harm will come –" he began again, but she cut across him, angrily.

"And I suppose Ron's leg broke all of its own accord, did it?"

He looked at her helplessly.

"You're evil," she whispered.

Harry spoke up.

"Professor Brown? I know it sounds mad, but they think Ron's rat is a wizard."

Amelia thought about this for a moment.

"Ok, maybe not evil. Deranged."

"It's the truth, Mel."

There was a pause, then –

"I'm sorry, I don't quite see what the hell that has to do with anything."

Hermione stepped forward; Amelia glanced at her in the gloom, feeling they were becoming somewhat sidetracked.

"Black says that he didn't kill Harry's parents, they were betrayed by Peter Pettigrew, their old friend."

Amelia frowned. "But he's dead," she said slowly, as if trying to explain something simple to Crabbe or Goyle.

"No he's not," said Remus. Behind him, Black gave a menacing growl.

"He soon will be!"

"Professor Lupin says that Pettigrew is an unregistered Animagus – like Black," Hermione continued timidly.

"An Animagus," Amelia repeated, slowly.

"He's a dog," said Ron, from the bed, "… I saw him change back."

Amelia looked at Remus, head tilted a little to the right as if trying to understand.

"A dog," she said, "and a rat."

Remus nodded.

"… Padfoot… and Wormtail…"

"Yes," he replied quietly.

Amelia shook her head again.

"Hermione?" she asked; it was unnecessary to finish the question.

"I… I think we should listen to them."

Still very unhappy, Amelia gave a curt nod and moved between the two men and the children. She didn't lower her wand.

"Go on then."


	20. Damnation

Harry stepped forward.

"I'm still not sure I believe you," he said, tersely.

"Then it's time we offered you some proof," said Black, still watching the way Remus was looking at Amelia. "You boy – give me Peter. Now." His voice suggested that he had been used to commanding respect.

Ron clutched Scabbers closer to his chest.

"Come off it," he said weakly. "Are you trying to say you broke out of Azkaban just to get your hands on _Scabbers_? I mean…" he looked up at Harry, Hermione and Amelia for support. "Ok, say Pettigrew _could_ turn into a rat – there are millions of rats – how's he supposed to know which one he's after if he was locked up in Azkaban?"

"You know, Sirius, that's a fair question," said Lupin, turning to Black and frowning slightly. "How _did_ you find out where he was?"

Black put one of his claw-like hands inside his robes – Amelia's hand tightened around her wand – and took out a crumpled piece of paper, which he smoothed flat and held it out to show the others.

It was the photograph of Ron and his family that had appeared in this _Daily Prophet_ the previous summer, and there, on Ron's shoulder, was Scabbers.

"How did you get this?" asked Remus, thunderstruck.

"Fudge," said Black. "When he came to inspect Azkaban last year, he gave me his paper. And there was Peter, on the front page… on this boy's shoulder… I knew him at once… how many times had I seen him transform? And the caption said the boy would be going back to Hogwarts… to where Harry was…"

"My God," said Remus softly, staring from Scabbers to the picture in the paper and back again. "His front paw…"

"What about it?" said Ron defiantly.

"He's got a toe missing," said Black.

"Of course," Remus breathed, and Amelia felt her resolve begin to slip, "so simple… so _brilliant_… He cut it off himself?"

"Just before he transformed," said Black. "When I cornered him, he yelled for the whole street to hear that I'd betrayed Lily and James. Then, before I could curse him, he blew apart the street with the wand behind his back, killed everyone within twenty feet of himself – and sped down into the sewer with the other rats…"

"The biggest bit of Peter they could find was his finger…" Amelia said softly, and lowered her wand.

"Look, Scabbers probably had a fight with another rat or something! He's been in my family for ages, right –"

"Twelve years, in fact," said Lupin. "Didn't you ever wonder why he was living so long?"

"We – we've been taking good care of him!"

"Not looking too good at the moment, though, is he?" said Lupin. "I'd guess he's been losing weight ever since he heard Sirius was on the loose again…"

"He's been scared of that mad cat!" said Ron, nodding towards Crookshanks, who was still purring on the bed.

"This cat isn't mad," said Black hoarsely. He reached out a bony hand and stroked Crookshanks's fluffy head. "He's the most intelligent of his kind I've ever met. He recognised Peter for what he was straight away. And when he met me, he knew I was no dog. It was awhile before he trusted me. Finally, I managed to communicate to him what I was after, and he's been helping me…"

"What do you mean?" breathed Hermione.

"He tried to bring Peter to me, but couldn't… so he stole the passwords into Gryffindor Tower for me… As I understand it, he took them from a boy's bedside table…"

Amelia's brain was sagging under the weight of what she was hearing. It seemed absurd, and yet… _Poor Neville…_

"But Peter got wind of what was going on and ran for it… this cat – Crookshanks, did you call him? – told me Peter had left blood on the sheets… I suppose he bit himself… well faking his own death had worked once…"

"And why did he fake his own death?" Harry said furiously. "Because he knew you were about to kill him like you killed my parents!"

Amelia raised her wand again; "Harry! Stay where you are!" she hissed.

"Harry, don't you see?" said Remus hurriedly. "All this time we've thought Sirius betrayed your parents, and Peter tracked him down – but it was the other way around, don't you see? _Peter_ betrayed your mother and father – Sirius tracked _Peter_ down –"

"THAT'S NOT TRUE!" Harry yelled. "HE WAS THEIR SECRET-KEEPER! HE SAID SO BEFORE YOU TURNED UP! HE SAID HE KILLED THEM!"

He was pointing at Black, who shook his head slowly; his sunken eyes were suddenly over-bright.

"Harry – I as good as killed them," he croaked. "I persuaded Lily and James to change to Peter at the last moment, persuaded them to use him as Secret-Keeper instead of me… I'm to blame, I know it… The night they died, I'd arranged to check on Peter, make sure he was still safe, but when I arrived at his hiding place, he'd gone. Yet there was no sign of a struggle. It didn't feel right – I was scared. I set out for your parents' house straight away – and when I saw their house, destroyed, and their bodies – I realised what Peter must have done. What I'd done."

His voice broke and he turned away. Amelia had the sudden urge to give him a hug, but she resisted… he was still the Enemy, after all.

"Enough of this," said Remus, and there was a steely note in his voice that they'd never heard before; it struck Amelia that this was the Remus that had seen the castle's ample defences put to good use, a decade ago.

"Wait," she said, and he paused, still willing to defer to her. "Mr Black," she addressed the broken man before her, "I am a reader. Do you know what that means?" Behind her, Ron gave a small gasp.

Black looked up at her, "You see to the truth of things."

She nodded and held out her free hand.

"Show me," she said simply.

He looked up at Remus, who nodded tersely, before taking her hand. He was desperately thin and his skin felt like paper beneath her fingers; Amelia immediately thought of the instructional skeletons they'd worked with in bone lab at university. She closed her eyes.

There was an intense rush of sound; all at once, she saw Remus and his friends transform; saw them attending Lily and James's wedding, Remus and Sirius dancing like lunatics at the reception; saw them playing with a tiny, unblemished Harry. She heard Pettigrew warning Sirius not to trust Remus as he'd always loved Lily, felt the accompanying shiver of suspicion that he'd felt. She saw Sirius convincing James that Peter would make an excellent Secret-Keeper; saw Sirius's frantic ride to Godric's Hollow that fateful night; saw the cottage in ruins, flowers strewn around the yard; saw Lily and James, pale and destroyed in the cold night air. Felt the howl of despair escape her own lips as it had pushed through his, so many years ago.

As she felt Hermione's worried hand on her back and heard Remus call her name (along with a chorus of "Professor!" from behind her), she saw Hagrid bend and pluck an infant from the rubble. The baby gurgled and laughed as the half-giant held him, and grasped Sirius's finger as he made to check on him.

Blinking, she let go of Sirius's hand and felt the tears streaming down her face.

"I am so very, very sorry," she said, to the man before her. Turning to Harry she continued, wetly, "You smiled at Hagrid when he found you, you know, and laughed…" he stared back at her across the years. "They're telling the truth Harry."

She pulled away from Remus and Hermione and sank onto the bed, sobbing; all she could see was another home reduced to rubble… Hermione hovered beside her, uncertain.

"Ron," said Remus, still looking at Amelia unhappily, "give me that rat."

"What are you going to do to him?" asked Ron, tensely.

"Force him to show himself," said Remus. "If he really is a rat, it won't hurt him."

Ron hesitated, then at long last held out Scabbers and Remus took him. Scabbers began to squeak without stopping, twisting and turning, his tiny black eyes bulging in his head.

_If he really is a rat_, thought Amelia dimly,_ then it looks like he's about to have a heart attack_.

Breathing hard, she patted Ron's hand as a gesture of comfort.

"Ready Sirius?" said Remus.

Black had already retrieved Severus's wand from the bed. He approached Remus and the struggling rat, and his wet eyes suddenly seemed to be burning in his face.

"Together?" he said quietly.

"I think so," said Remus, holding Scabbers tightly in one hand and his wand in the other. "On the count of three. One – two – THREE!"

A flash of blue-white light erupted from both wands; for a moment, Scabbers was frozen in mid-air, his small black form twisting madly – Ron yelled – the rat fell and hit the floor. There was another blinding flash of light and then –

It was like watching up a speeded-up film of a growing tree. A head was shooting up from the ground; limbs were sprouting; next moment, a man was standing where Scabbers had been, cringing and wringing his hands. Crookshanks was spitting and snarling on the bed, the hair on his back standing up. Amelia rather agreed with him.

Pettigrew was a very short man, hardly taller than Hermione. His thin, colourless hair was unkempt, and there was a large bald patch on top. He had the shrunken appearance of a plump man who has lost a great deal of weight in a short time. His skin looked grubby, almost exactly like Scabbers's fur, and something of the rat lingered around his pointed nose, his very small, watery eyes. He looked around at them all, his breathing fast and shallow. Amelia saw his eyes dart to the door and back again; she didn't need to be a reader to know that Pettigrew was in trouble. And he knew it.

"Well, hello Peter," said Remus pleasantly, as though rats frequently erupted into old school friends around him. _They probably do_, thought Amelia. "Long time, no see."

"S-Sirius… R-Remus…" even his voice was squeaky. Again, his eyes darted towards the door. "My friends… my old friends…"

Black's wand arm rose, but Remus seized him around the wrist, gave him a warning look, then turned again to Pettigrew, his voice light and casual.

"We've been having a little chat, Peter, about what happened on the night Lily and James died. You might have missed the finer points while you were squeaking around down there on the bed –"

It was the absolute calm in Remus's voice that betrayed his fury to Hermione; Amelia could feel it burning through him, though he sounded for all the world like he was chairing a meeting. Suddenly, for the first time, she was a little afraid of him.

"Remus," gasped Pettigrew as beads of sweat broke out over his pasty face, "you don't believe him, do you… He tried to kill me, Remus…"

"So we've heard," said Remus, more coldly. "I'd like to clear up one or two little matters with you, Peter, if you'd be so –"

"He's come to try to kill me again!" Peter shrieked suddenly, pointing at Black with his middle finger. "He killed Lily and James and now he's going to kill me too! You've got to help me, Remus…"

Black's face looked more skull-like than ever as he stared at Pettigrew with his fathomless eyes.

"No one's going to try to kill you until we've sorted a few things out," said Remus.

_And after that?_ Amelia thought, suddenly.

"Sorted things out?" squeaked Pettigrew, looking wildly about him once more, his eyes taking in the boarded windows and, again, the only door. "I knew he'd come after me! I knew he'd be back for me! I've been waiting for this for twelve years!"

"You knew Sirius would break out of Azkaban?" said Remus, his brow furrowed. "When nobody has ever done it before?"

"He's got dark powers the rest of us can only dream of!" Pettigrew shouted shrilly as Amelia tried to imagine herself dreaming of that level of darkness. "How else did he get out of there? I suppose He Who Must Not Be Named taught him a few tricks!"

Black started to laugh, a horrible, mirthless laugh that filled the whole room; Amelia felt for him.

"Voldemort, teach me tricks?"

Pettigrew flinched as though Black had brandished a whip at him.

"What, scared to hear your old master's name?" said Black. "I don't blame you, Peter. His lot aren't very happy with you, are they?"

"Don't know – what you mean – Sirius –" muttered Pettigrew, his breathing faster than ever. It occurred to Amelia that he might still have a heart attack. His whole face was shining with sweat now.

"You haven't been hiding from _me_ for twelve years," said Black. "You've been hiding from Voldemort's old supporters. I heard things in Azkaban, Peter… they all think you're dead, or you'd have to answer to them… I've heard them screaming all sorts of things in their sleep. Sounds like they think the double-crosser double-crossed them. Voldemort went to Godric's Hollow on your information… and Voldemort met his downfall there. And not all Voldemort's supporters ended up in Azkaban, did they? There are still plenty of them out there, biding their time, pretending they've seen the error of their ways… If they ever got wind that you were still alive, Peter…"

"Don't know… what you're talking about…" repeated Pettigrew, more shrilly than ever. He wiped his face on his sleeve and looked up at Remus. "You don't believe this – this madness, Remus –"

"I must admit, Peter, I have difficulty in understanding why an innocent man would want to spend twelve years as a rat," Remus said evenly.

"Innocent, but scared!" squealed Pettigrew. "If Voldemort's supporters were after me, it was because I put one of their best men in Azkaban! The spy – Sirius Black!"

Black's face contorted.

"How dare you," he growled, sounding exactly like the bear-sized dog he had been. "I, a spy for Voldemort? When did I ever sneak around people who were stronger and more powerful than me? But you, Peter – I'll never understand why I didn't see you were the spy from the start. You always liked big friends who'd look after you, didn't you? In school it used to be us…"

Pettigrew wiped his face again; he was almost panting for breath. "Me, a spy… must be out of your mind… never… don't know how you can say such a –"

"Lily and James only made you Secret-Keeper because I suggested it," Black hissed, so venomously that Pettigrew took a step backwards. "I thought it was the perfect plan… a bluff… Voldemort would be sure to come after me, would never dream they'd use a weak, talentless thing like you… It must have been the finest moment of your miserable life, telling Voldemort you could hand him the Potters."

Pettigrew was ashen faced now and muttering distractedly, not even bothering to conceal his fervent glances towards window or door.

"Professor Lupin?" said Hermione timidly. "Can – can I say something?"

"Certainly, Hermione," said Remus courteously.

"Well – Scabbers – I mean, this – this man – he's been sleeping in Harry's dormitory for three years. If he's working for You-Know-Who, why hasn't he hurt Harry before now?"

"There!" said Pettigrew shrilly, pointing at her with his maimed hand. "Thank you! You see, Remus? I have never hurt a hair of Harry's head! Why should I?"

"I'll tell you why," said Black. "Because you never did anything for anyone unless you could see what was in it for you. Voldemort's been in hiding for twelve years, they say he's half-dead. You weren't about to commit murder right under Albus Dumbledore's nose, for a wreck of a wizard who'd lost all his power, were you? You'd want to be quite sure he was the biggest bully in the playground before you went back to him, wouldn't you? Why else did you find a wizard family to take you in? Keeping an ear out for news, weren't you, Peter? Just in case your old protector regained strength, and it was safe to rejoin him…"

Pettigrew opened his mouth and closed it several times. He seemed to have lost the ability to talk. It was a lot like watching a car crash in slow motion; the men in front of her appeared to need to hear him admit his treachery, though it was obvious for anyone to see now. _Or perhaps they need Harry to hear it…_

"Er – Mr Black – Sirius?" said Hermione timidly. Amelia was secretly very proud of her.

Black jumped at being addressed like this and stared at Hermione as though being spoken to politely was something he'd long forgotten.

"If you don't mind me asking, how – how did you get out of Azkaban, if you didn't use Dark Magic?"

"Thank you!" gasped Pettigrew, nodding frantically at her. "Exactly! Precisely what I -"

"Oh shut up, you whiny git," said Amelia from the bed; Remus gave her a Look. Black was frowning slightly at Hermione, but not as though he was annoyed with her. He seemed to be pondering his answer.

"I don't know how I did it," he said slowly. "I think the only reason I never lost my mind is that I knew I was innocent. That wasn't a happy thought, so the Dementors couldn't suck it out of me… but it kept me sane and knowing who I am… helped me keep my powers… so when it all became… too much… I could transform in my cell… become a dog. Dementors can't see, you know…" He swallowed. "They feel their way towards people by sensing their emotions… they could tell that my feelings were less – less human, less complex when I was a dog… but they thought, of course, that I was losing my mind like everyone else in there, so it didn't trouble them. But I was weak, very weak, and I had no hope of driving them away from me without a wand…

Amelia reached out to him and took his hand, briefly; he looked at her bemused.

"But then I saw Peter in that picture… I realised he was at Hogwarts with Harry… perfectly positioned to act, if one hint reached his ears that the Dark Side was gathering strength again…"

Pettigrew was shaking his head, mouthing noiselessly, but staring at Black as though hypnotised.

"… ready to strike the moment he could be sure of allies… to deliver the last Potter to them. If he gave them Harry, who'd dare say he'd betrayed Lord Voldemort? He'd be welcomed back with honours…

"So you see, I had to do something. I was the only one who knew Peter was still alive… It was as if someone had lit a fire in my head, and the Dementors couldn't destroy it… it wasn't a happy feeling… it was an obsession… but it gave me strength, it cleared my mind. So, one night when they opened my door to bring food, I slipped past them as a dog… it's so much harder for them to sense animal emotions that they were confused… I was thin, very thin… thin enough to slip through the bars… I swam as a dog back to the mainland… I journeyed north and slipped into the Hogwarts grounds as a dog… I've been living in the Forest ever since… except when I come to watch the Quidditch, of course… you fly as well as your father did, Harry…"

He looked at Harry, who did not look away.

"Believe me," croaked Black. "Believe me. I never betrayed James and Lily. I would have died before I betrayed them."

And at long last, Harry appeared to believe him. Throat too tight to speak, he nodded.

"No!"

Pettigrew had fallen to his knees as though Harry's nod had been his own death sentence. He shuffled forward on his knees, grovelling, his hands clasped in front of him as though praying.

"Sirius – it's me… it's Peter… your friend… you wouldn't…"

Black kicked out and Pettigrew recoiled.

"There's enough filth on my robes without you touching them," said Black.

"Remus!" Pettigrew squeaked, turning to him instead, writhing on the floor in front of him. "You don't believe this… Wouldn't Sirius have told you they'd changed the plan?"

"Not if he thought I was the spy, Peter," said Remus, who was now rolling up his sleeves in a business-like manner. "I assume that's why you didn't tell me, Sirius?" he said casually over Pettigrew's head.

"Forgive me, Remus," said Black.

"Not at all, Padfoot, old friend," said Remus, the shadow of a smile on his lips. "And will you, in turn, forgive me for thinking _you_ were the spy?"

"Of course," said Black, and the ghost of a grin flitted across his gaunt features. He, too, began rolling up his sleeves; Amelia had a feeling what was coming next. "Shall we kill him together?"

"Yes, I think so," said Remus grimly.

"You wouldn't… you won't…" gasped Pettigrew. And he scrambled around to Ron.

"Ron… haven't I been a good friend… a good pet? You won't let them kill me, Ron, will you… you're on my side, aren't you?"

But Ron was staring at him with the utmost revulsion, unsure what disgusted him more. He settled for the simplest.

"I let you sleep in my _bed_!" he said.

"Kind boy… kind master…" Pettigrew crawled towards Ron, "you won't let them do it… I was your rat… I was a good pet…"

"If you made a better rat than human, it's not much to boast about, Peter," said Black, harshly. Ron, going still paler with pain, wrenched his broken leg out of Pettigrew's reach. Pettigrew, looking ever more pathetic, turned on his knees, staggered forwards and seized the hem of Hermione's robes.

"Sweet girl… clever girl… you – you won't let them… help me…"

Amelia's wand was pressed firmly against his throat; tears still shone on her face, but her wand and voice were quite steady.

"Touch her or Ron again and you're a dead rat," she said, coldly.

Hermione pulled her robes out of Pettigrew's clutching hands and backed away against the wall, looking horrified at him, what Lupin and Black were clearly about to do and Amelia's sincere lack of sympathy.

Pettigrew knelt, trembling uncontrollably, and turned his head slowly towards Harry. Amelia tightened her grip on her wand and ever so slightly increased the pressure against his neck.

"Harry…" he choked. "Harry… you look just like your father… just like him…"

"HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO HARRY?" roared Black. "HOW DARE YOU FACE HIM? HOW DARE YOU TALK ABOUT JAMES IN FRONT OF HIM?"

"Harry," whispered Pettigrew, stretching his arms out to him, pleading. "Harry, James wouldn't have wanted me killed… James would have understood, Harry… he would have shown me mercy…"

"Perhaps up until the point where you murdered his wife and child," said Amelia, conversationally.

Both Sirius and Remus strode forwards, seized Pettigrew's shoulders and threw him backwards to the floor. He sat there, twitching with terror, staring up at them.

"You sold Lily and James to Voldemort," said Sirius, who was shaking too. "Do you deny it?"

Amelia was suddenly reminded of the traditional Anglo-Saxon trials; this would only lead to Pettigrew's execution. That part of her brain that ran while the rest of her concentrated on the matter in hand examined her conscience: she felt no pity for Pettigrew, she realised, only for the men whose lives he had so willingly destroyed.

On the floor, Pettigrew burst into tears. It was horrible to watch: he looked like an oversized, balding baby, cowering on the floor.

"Sirius, Sirius, what could I have done? The Dark Lord… you have no idea… he has weapons you can't imagine… I was scared, Sirius, I was never brave like you and Remus and James."

This, Amelia felt, was probably the only truth Pettigrew had told in twelve years.

"I never meant it to happen… He Who Must Not Be Named forced me –"

"DON'T LIE!" bellowed Sirius. "YOU'D BEEN PASSING INFORMATION TO HIM FOR A YEAR BEFORE LILY AND JAMES DIED! YOU WERE HIS SPY!"

_All the fragments of a life,_ Amelia thought sadly, _the smiles, the tears, the laughter… always coming to this… only this._

"He – he was taking over everywhere!" gasped Pettigrew. "Wh-what was there to be gained by refusing him?"

"What was there to be gained by fighting the most evil wizard who has ever existed?" said Black, with a terrible fury in his face. "Only innocent lives, Peter!"

"You don't understand," he whined. "He would have killed me, Sirius!"

_I hope, that when I face death, I shall stand before him and not grovel_, she thought. Amelia looked around her, briefly. It struck her that Harry, Ron and Hermione, _her Hermione_, would carry the events that happened in this gloomy, desperate room with them for the rest of their lives.

"THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED!" roared Sirius. "DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS, AS WE WOULD HAVE DONE FOR YOU!"

Sirius and Remus stood shoulder to shoulder, wands raised.

_It should not end like this._

"You should have realised," said Remus quietly. "If Voldemort didn't kill you, we would. Goodbye, Peter."

Hermione covered her face with her hands and turned to the wall.

"No," Amelia said, as Harry yelled it. The boy ran forwards, placing himself in front of Pettigrew, facing the wands. "You can't kill him," he said breathlessly. "You can't."

Remus and Sirius both looked staggered.

"Harry, this piece of vermin is the reason you have no parents," Black snarled. "This cringing bit of filth would have seen you die, too, without turning a hair. You heard him. His own stinking skin meant more to him than your whole family."

"I know," Harry panted. "We'll take him up to the castle. We'll hand him over to the Dementors. He can go to Azkaban… just don't kill him."

"Harry!" gasped Pettigrew, and he flung his arms around Harry's knees. "You – thank you – it's more than I deserve – thank you –"

"Get off me," Harry spat, throwing Pettigrew's hands off him in disgust. "I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing it because I don't reckon my dad would've wanted his best friends to become killers – just for you."

Not for the first time, Amelia was intensely proud to know this boy.

Nobody moved or made a sound except Pettigrew, whose breath was coming in wheezes as he clutched his chest. Sirius and Remus were looking at each other. Then, with one movement, they lowered their wands; their reaffirmed attachment was obvious to anyone.

"You're the only person who has the right to decide, Harry," said Sirius. "But think… think what he did…"

"He can go to Azkaban," Harry repeated. "If anyone deserves that place, he does."

Amelia crossed the room and laid a hand on Remus's arm.

"You're not a killer, Remus," she said softly. "Neither of you are."

Pettigrew was still wheezing on the floor behind Harry.

Remus looked from Amelia, to Harry, to Sirius and back to Harry once more.

"Very well," he said. "Stand aside, Harry."

Harry hesitated.

"I'm going to tie him up," said Remus. "That's all, I swear."

Harry stepped out of the way. Thin cords shot from Remus's wand this time, and next moment, Pettigrew was wriggling on the floor, bound and gagged.

"But if you transform, Peter," Sirius growled, his own wand pointing at Pettigrew, too, "we _will_ kill you. You agree, Harry?"

Harry looked down at the pitiful figure on the floor, and nodded so that Pettigrew could see him.

"Right," said Remus, suddenly business-like. "Ron, I can't mend bones nearly as well as Madam Pomfrey, So I think it's best if we just strap your leg up until we can get you to the hospital wing."

He hurried over to Ron, bent down, tapped Ron's leg with his wand and muttered "_Ferula._" Bandages spun up Ron's leg, strapping it tightly to a splint. Remus helped him to his feet; Ron put his weight gingerly on the leg and didn't wince.

"That's better," he said. "Thanks."

"What about Professor Snape?" asked Hermione in a small voice, looking down at Snape's prone figure.

"There's nothing seriously wrong with him," said Amelia, bending over Severus and checking his pulse. "You were just a little – over-enthusiastic. Still out cold." She looked at the others in an appraising manner. "Er – perhaps it will be best if we don't revive him until we're safely back in the castle. We can take him like this…"

Remus muttered "_Mobilicorpus._" As though invisible strings were tied to Snape's wrists, neck and knees, he was pulled into a standing position, head still lolling unpleasantly, like a grotesque puppet. He hung a few inches above the ground, his limp feet dangling.

"Is that the best you can do for him?" asked Amelia, eyebrows raised.

"Yes, actually," replied Remus, apparently still smarting over the Potions Master's earlier taunts; Sirius smirked.

"Hmmm." Amelia said, as he picked up the Invisibility Cloak and tucked it safely in his pocket, not meeting her gaze.

"And two of us should be chained to this," said Black, nudging Pettigrew with his toe. "Just to make sure."

"I'll do it," said Remus.

"And me," said Ron savagely, limping forwards.

Sirius conjured heavy manacles from thin air; soon Pettigrew was upright again, left arm chained to Remus's right, right arm to Ron's left. Ron's face was set. He appeared to have taken Scabbers's true identity as a personal insult. Crookshanks leapt lightly off the bed and led the way out of the room, his bottle-brush tail held jauntily high.


	21. A Walk in the Moonlight

They moved down the tunnel awkwardly, bent double and in small groups. Amelia could see Harry talking to Sirius up ahead; he appeared to be unconcerned that Severus's head was scraping along the ceiling of the passage. Amelia winced every time it hit a rock that jutted out, but she made no move to interrupt their earnest conversation.

Hermione, walking beside her cousin, filled her in on the bits she'd missed before her panicked entry to the Shrieking Shack.

"… and he wouldn't listen to any of us, so we had to disarm him," she was saying. "Which is when you came in." She paused and looked at Amelia out of the corner of her eye. "Mel, are you all right? You – you scared me back there."

In the darkness, Amelia found Hermione's hand.

"I saw them, love. I saw them happy and then destroyed… bodies. Just shapes in the rubble. Like before…"

Hermione didn't need to ask what her cousin had meant; she gave her hand a quick squeeze.

Harry and Sirius had stopped in the tunnel up ahead. They were beaming at one another.

Amelia smiled a little, too.

"They deserve so much more than they've had," she said, in a tight voice.

Hermione nodded with feeling. _So do we…_ she thought.

They did not speak again until they had reached the end of the tunnel. Crookshanks darted up first; he had evidently pressed his paw to the knot on the trunk, because Remus, Pettigrew and Ron clambered upwards without any sound of savaging branches.

Sirius saw Severus up through the hole and then stood back for Harry and Hermione to pass. Amelia paused for a moment to smile at him before climbing out into the night, but he grabbed her arm, gently.

"Thank you," he said.

"I didn't do anything," Amelia said, puzzled.

"Yes you did. You trusted me – I think that helped Harry to trust me… And you've stopped Remus from being alone."

She squinted at the skeletal figure in the gloom of the tunnel.

"You really care for him, don't you?" he said, giving her a piercing look.

She nodded, a little numbly.

"Good. Because I've never seen Remus look at anyone the way he was looking at you back there," he said simply.

Amelia didn't know what to say to this man, who had been taken away from life for so long, but still managed to worry about his friends. After a moment spent taking one another in, Amelia clambered out of the tunnel, Sirius close behind her. At last, all of them were out.

The grounds were very dark now, the only light came from the distant windows of the castle. Without a word, they set off. Amelia wondered whether or not their absence had been noted at dinner… there were a few of them missing. Remus glanced at her in the darkness.

_He isn't sure where he stands anymore_, she thought. _Nor do I, actually_.

Pettigrew was still wheezing and occasionally whimpering.

"One wrong move, Peter," said Remus threateningly, ahead. His wand was pointed sideways at Pettigrew's chest.

Silently they tramped through the grounds, the castle lights growing slowly larger. It occurred to Amelia that this felt almost exactly like walking home after a dig, except without the inebriation that usually took place in between finishing for the day and actually arriving at whatever accommodation had been provided (tent, bod or bunk-house). Quietly, she murmured this to her cousin, who gave her a brief smile.

Severus was still drifting weirdly ahead of Sirius, his chin bumping on his chest. And then –

A cloud shifted. There were suddenly crisp, blue shadows on the ground. Their party was bathed in moonlight.

Snape collided with Remus, Pettigrew and Ron, who had stopped abruptly. Sirius froze. He flung out an arm to make Harry, Hermione and Amelia stop.

They could see Remus's silhouette. He had gone rigid. Then his limbs began to shake.

Amelia thrust Harry and Hermione behind her and raised her wand, horrified. She reached out with her mind to feel Remus slipping away and the wolf taking over. Wordlessly, she forced the children to take a step backwards.

"Oh my –" Hermione gasped. "He didn't take his Potion tonight! He's not safe!*"

"Run," Sirius whispered. "Run! Now!"

But they couldn't run… Amelia could feel it in Harry and Hermione too. Ron was chained to Remus as well as Pettigrew. Harry leapt forwards but Sirius caught him around the chest and threw him back.

"Leave him to me – RUN!"

There was a terrible snarling noise. Remus's head was lengthening. So was his body. His shoulders were hunching. Hair was sprouting visibly on his face and hands, which were curling into clawed paws. Crookshanks's fur was on end again, he was backing away –

As the werewolf reared, snapping its long jaws, Sirius disappeared from Harry's side. He had transformed. The enormous, bear-like dog bounded forwards. As the werewolf wrenched itself free of the manacle binding it, the dog seized it about the neck and pulled it backwards, away from Ron and Pettigrew. They were locked, jaw to jaw, claws ripping at each other –

Without thought, Amelia ran forwards, desperate to help her lover and his old friend – she had to do something before they tore one another apart!

Sirius was thrown off to one side as she reached them and the werewolf launched at her instead – she ducked and he missed, rolling and returning to pounce. Somewhere behind her, Hermione screamed and Amelia half turned, instinctively.

As she did so, fierce claws ripped through her chest and shoulder, throwing her back onto the grass.

She was aware of a great weight pressing down on her as her flesh burned and she screamed, howling her anguish into the black. The stars above her went fuzzy with the pain and she coughed and spluttered, reaching for a breath that wouldn't – just wouldn't – come.

As consciousness slipped from her she heard screams and shouting, howls and snarling all around her, as if the very darkness was tearing at her, until all was still.

0o0o0o0

Amelia was having an awful dream.

She was small again and being chased by snarling and spitting things, the trees catching at her clothes and hair. She ran through the thicket and deeper into the darkness, but still they came, scratching and biting and burning. It felt as if the pain might go on forever –

Then, suddenly, she was free; blinded by the moon, out in the open. She strained to hear a sound in the new and bewildering silence, herself once more.

Something touched her hand and she span around, terrified, to face this new demon.

There were two figures stood beside her in the moonlight. Amelia blinked. They certainly weren't demons.

The woman spoke first.

"You're going to be all right, it's just a dream." It was as if her voice was coming from a long way away; somewhere in the back of her mind, Amelia registered that the woman had dark red hair.

"You were hurt," said her husband, running his hand through his messy black hair. "I expect Moony'll be a bit upset about that."

"It wasn't his fault," she managed.

They smiled at her.

"_We_ know that," said the woman, eyes sparkling. "But he won't see it that way."

The man nodded, sombre now.

"Don't let him run away – he's too good at that…"

Amelia nodded, numbly. _How_ was this possible?

The sky was lightening above them.

"Time to wake up," Lily said, kindly.

0o0o0o0

Pale moonlight had become blinding sunlight at an altogether too rapid a pace for Amelia's liking.

"Madame Pomfrey! She's waking up!"

Amelia experimented with her eyes – nope. Sunlight still hurt.

"Ow," she stated and cracked one eye.

Hermione swam into view; she was grinning.

"Everyone safe?" Amelia asked.

"Yeah," her cousin answered. "Well… mostly."

Poppy bustled over, bustled Amelia upright and bustled away again. She appeared to be in no mood for conversation this morning.

Was it morning? Wait –

"'Mostly' isn't a particularly good assessment," she grimaced. "Why can't I move my arm?"

"… What do you remember, Mel?"

Amelia squinted at her cousin.

_Moonlight… pain… claws… Remus…_

"Remus!"

Hermione pushed her firmly back onto the bed.

"He's fine – well, physically at least – and you aren't going anywhere soon."

Amelia looked at her again, she'd not heard that tone before – at least, not from Hermione. It was the tone that Aunty Bea, her mother and Aunty Ruth used when something was not to be argued with; she'd used it herself in class, and with Hermione.

Hermione was growing up.

"What about Severus?" she asked in a low tone, glancing at Poppy.

"Well, it's kind of a long story…"

0o0o0o0

Harry and Hermione filled Amelia and Ron in on the rescue of Buckbeak and Sirius – she had Ron had gone 'Oooh' and 'Aaah' at all the appropriate bits – and had been chased out of the Hospital Wing by a still irritable Poppy. By lunchtime, Ron was snoozing peacefully in his bed and Amelia was thoroughly bored. There appeared to be nothing that could take her mind off the nagging pain in her arm and shoulder, though Poppy assured her that it was healing well.

The monotony was eventually broken by Severus, who brought with him a bad temper and some grapes.

"Tradition, I believe," he said softly, so as not to wake Ron, and placed them by her bedside. "How's the shoulder?"

"Non-existent," she replied. "How's the head?"

"I'll live," he said, rubbing the small cut on his forehead. He frowned.

"An attack like that should have killed you."

"Probably," she said brightly. "Poppy was saying something about being an inch away from my jugular… I thought I might have died for a bit actually," she continued, more quietly. "But I was just having this weird, _weird_ dream… I assume I have you to thank for getting back up here?"

Severus nodded, and absently stole a grape.

"… Sev', how's Remus?"

His frown deepened.

"I wouldn't know," he said, a little coldly. "It appears he's been helping his old friend into the castle, to get to Potter… Albus won't listen."

Amelia looked at him. Severus looked livid; when he spoke, his voice shook a little.

"I believed him, too! All that stuff about Lily, and friendship, and _you_!" he snarled. Ron stirred a little in his bed. Severus lowered his voice. "I thought he was my – our – friend, and all this time…"

He looked up at her miserably.

"… You must be feeling pretty rotten about it all too."

She laid a hand on his arm.

"It wasn't like that Severus," she said quietly.

Severus, still smarting from Black's escape, the loss of the Order of Merlin and the revenge that had been wrested from him (not to mention the blow to his pride from three under-age wizards knocking him out cold), did not react well to further confusion.

"What was it like then?" he snapped, and Amelia took her hand away. He managed to look abashed. "Sorry," he said, in a small voice.

"… Do you know that I am a Reader, Severus?" she asked, softly.

"No!" he exclaimed, aghast. _How much can she have seen?_ He thought desperately, before remembering that the world was no longer at war. He looked her up and down a few times before visibly relaxing. "Though it does explain a few things."

Amelia gave him a small smile.

"I think I can show you what happened after you were – ah – incapacitated… if that's what you want."

Severus gave her a hard and wary look for a moment, before nodding and drawing up his sleeve; as she took his hand, she noticed a curious tattoo on the flesh of his inner arm. She filed this information under 'Ask about later' and showed him what she'd seen, what Sirius had shown her. Through her mind's eye, he watched Remus and Sirius unmask Pettigrew and the rat's subsequent 'trial'. He saw Harry prevent his death, then Remus's transformation. She showed him what Hermione and Harry had told her about Pettigrew's escape and the swarming of the Dementors.

When they got to the bit about Sirius's escape on Buckbeak she hesitated, unsure, but decided that Severus deserved to know.

When she'd finished, she was shaky and exhausted; Severus too was shaking, though in his case with horror. He was almost as pale as the hospital linen beneath his hand.

He stood swiftly, saying, "I have to make this right," before dashing out of the Hospital Wing and almost knocking an enraged Poppy off her feet. The small witch shook her fist at him before checking on Amelia and returning to her office, a disapproving expression on her face.

0o0o0o0

*It is at this point in the story that I have to move heavy objects away from myself, as I usually start throwing things at three imaginary students, two teachers and one convict and shout incoherently. Words like 'NUMPTIES!' often happen around this point with alarming frequency.

It was to correct this… _oversight_ on the part of the characters (I mean, Hermione or Remus should have spotted this at the very least) – yes, I _know_ they've had the kind of evening that makes people forget things but _still_ – that I originally started writing this fanfiction. I was going to make Amelia bottle the Potion and arrive at the Shrieking Shack, deal with Severus and Pettigrew, and smack Remus around the back of the head for being such a dipshit (albeit an adorable one).

However, the characters have apparently decided to stage a mutiny, and what I have actually written is much closer to the original story – largely, I suspect, because Amelia and Severus would very much like there to be a sequel (Remus and Hermione aren't sure, they're a little bit embarrassed about the whole _people-reading-their-thoughts_ thing). Honestly, how selfish can you get?

Also, the whole Old-Mouldy-rising-from-the-dead thing just wouldn't work without little Wormy to provide his arm (incidentally, did it actually need the whole arm? I mean, _really_?), I can't see Barty Junior maiming himself – ok, yes, he's a power hungry loony who is probably the head of the Voldemort fan-club, but it just doesn't seem like his style. And without Wormy to get stuff ready he might not have had an Old Mouldy to help resurrect… it just doesn't work.

I guess I'm just being mean for not giving them all the happy ending they actually deserve.

Might be kinder to Sirius though… we'll see. He's been annoying me today, distracting me while I should be reading papers. Again. I think he wants a story to himself…

(Yes, I am a bit mad – I really hope none of my tutors are reading this…)

Anyway, on with the story…


	22. Pondweed and Lunacy

Amelia slept then, until early evening.

Ron had been allowed back into the school and Poppy was apparently at dinner with the rest of the staff. It was dark inside the Hospital Wing. She flexed her arm, wearily. It _hurt_.

As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she realised that she could make out a shadow in darkness – it didn't feel particularly threatening.

"Remus?" she asked.

He lent forwards then, and she could see that he'd been hurt in the struggle with Sirius; he was scratched, pale and haggard.

"I came to say goodbye," he said quietly. There was defeat in his voice. "I'm glad you're all right."

"Goodbye?" Amelia sputtered, shocked. "What? Why? No –"

He laid a gentle hand on her arm.

"I could have killed you Amelia," he said heavily. "Or bitten you – I'm not sure which would be worse. I'm not safe."

Arguments swam through her head; bewildered and panicking, she selected one at random.

"But you can't just leave, the Potion –" but he cut across her.

"If I forget to take it again the same thing will happen, or worse."

"I won't let you forget it!" she snapped, fiercely.

"No, Amelia," he said, and that steely note had returned to his voice. "I'm going to stay away from you. I should never have let myself get so close."

She stared at him, open-mouthed.

"Don't you bloody dare!" she hissed.

"Amelia…" he ran a hand through his greying hair, frustrated. Why couldn't she understand that this was for the best? _Even if it is killing you_, said that voice at the back of his head. "I nearly killed you last night."

"But you didn't –"

"I'm a werewolf!" he snapped, suddenly, and once again she could see the wolfishness pass across his gentle features. "I have to live my life being chased from job to job and village to village. Even if I hadn't hurt you, that's no kind of life for you. I'm also older than you – no, don't interrupt – much older. You – you deserve someone who can make you happy, someone you can raise a family with, someone whom you can trust – not someone who could kill you in your sleep."

She was frozen, she realised; paralysed by his idiocy.

"So I'm afraid I have to say goodbye," he said sadly. He stood, and the ghost of a smile dashed across his face. "It really has been quite wonderful, Miss Brown."

When he received no response, he strode, miserably but purposefully, out of the Hospital Wing.

It took a few seconds for Amelia's brain to re-engage.

"Oy!" she shouted, and made to get up. Her left shoulder screamed in protest and she gritted her teeth.

Barefoot, bleeding from her recent exertions and clad in her pyjamas she chased him out of the Hospital Wing, through the Clocktower and across the Entrance Hall, where she scattered a few stunned students.

"I'm talking to you!" she shouted, crossly, aware that her wounds were re-opening. She was severely pissed off.

Remus tried to pay her no heed and speeded up; this was a mistake. He had intended to hole up in his office, but his present route was taking him out into the grounds.

It was a clear night and the waning moon shone brightly down on them. Both glared at it, with considerable venom.

"Oy, Prick!"

Amelia huffed in frustration as they reached the Black Lake. She stopped by its edge and cast around for a way of making him slow down. Remus couldn't hear her following him any more; he allowed his pace to slacken a little.

SPLAT!

The gob of muddy pondweed hit him in the back of the head; he whirled around. Amelia was stood ten feet away, one hand full of mud, the other hanging limp beside her – she was glowering at him.

"This is not up for discussion!" he shouted, and turned away.

SPLAT!

This one hit his ear; he pulled an alarmed pond snail off his face and threw it back into the lake, angrily.

Amelia was bending down to gather more ammunition, expression grim.

"Please don't make this any harder –" he dodged as the next missile flew past his head.

"_This really is quite childish!_" he snapped.

"_You really are quite patronising!_" she shot back.

Angry, and rather at a loss, he turned to walk off again.

SPLAT!

He froze as the mud dripped down the back of his collar. Somewhere behind him, he heard Amelia give a soft "Hah."

Remus lost his temper.

Stooping to gather ammunition, he whirled to face her, ready to attack.

Amelia, however, had dropped to her knees and was pressing a hand to her injured shoulder; she looked up at him. She was very pale.

"Idiot!" he said, though he was far angrier with himself now than with her. He flung the mud to the ground and rushed to her side. Amelia's adrenaline, the only thing keeping her angry and on her feet, had finally left her, exhausted and defeated, in a puddle of muddy pebbles on the shores of the Lake.

"Are you dizzy? Let me help you up –" he babbled.

Amelia stayed where she was and turned away from him.

"You shouldn't have come after me like that!" he said. "That was so foolish!"

The woman on the ground made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob and swayed, dangerously.

"Amelia…" No response. He could see the blood soaking through her bandages, staining her cotton pyjamas.

_You did this!_ his mind hissed. _You hurt her! You betrayed her!_

"Mel…" he reached out to her, but she pulled away weakly, falling on her side to the pebbles of the Lake.

"Please… I need to get you back to the Hospital Wing," there was urgency in his voice now.

"I don't want your help," she muttered, pulling her legs up to her chin in a sitting position. "You helping me means you going away."

He stared at her, miserably.

"I have to."

"No, you don't," she said dully, her voice muffled through her working arm. "You're just running away again, like you always do. Leaving me behind, just like everybody else."

It occurred to Remus that if she wouldn't go with him to the Hospital Wing, he would have to stay out here with her. He moved to her uninjured side and sat beside her, but she shuffled away.

Amelia grimaced again and felt her shoulder.

"You know, Poppy should really have a look at that," he said, tentatively.

"What's the point?" she asked, crossly, aware that she sounded like a petulant child.

Remus found himself rather at a loss for words.

"Er – well, she'd be able to heal it up better… and it wouldn't hurt as much…"

He looked at her; she was shaking, hard. For the hundredth time that day, he felt his heart shatter. All he wanted to do was take this woman into his arms and tell her that everything would be ok; but he knew that if he let himself get too close to her again he'd never be able to let her go…

"You don't get it, do you?" she said quietly, mostly to herself. "I don't want younger, or safer or more employable. I want _you_."

She looked over at him then, and he saw the tired desperation in her eyes.

"You're good, and kind, and loyal, and forgiving. You're a brilliant teacher. You read poetry on purpose," she paused, and continued very quietly, "… you make me feel wanted, and safe. Like nothing else can hurt me… and, I love you."

In a flash, he remembered her winter encounter with her ex-boyfriend and her mother's recent death. Apart from a girl half her age and an aunt she barely saw, who did this odd, lovely, frightened woman have, except him?

"I honestly don't know what I'll do without you around," she was saying, muffledly. "But if what you need is to be away from me then _I'll_ leave. I've seldom met a better teacher, and you have a home here – I'm not going to take that away from you."

Even in the depths of her despair, she was trying to do what was best for him.

That last, tiny, rational part of him that was forcing him away from her finally broke down and pissed off for a cup of tea.

"Oh, Mel," he said helplessly, wrapping his arms around her; hot tears splashed onto her face and she realised that he too was crying.

"You're right, you're right, I can't leave," he sobbed into her shoulder.

Crying too, she held on to him tightly with her good arm.

"I'm a fool," he said, muffledly. "How could I stay away from the woman I love?"

He looked up at her then.

"I promised you once that you'd not have to face things alone," he traced a finger down her cheek, smearing her face with mud. "I'd forgotten – I'm sorry."

"You're going to stay?" Amelia asked, holding his gaze.

Remus nodded.

"Forever – if you want me to."

Amelia smiled wetly back at him.

"Forever, then."

He kissed her then, trying to put everything he felt for her into the working of his jaw. Eventually, they broke apart. He rubbed her back, and then remembered why they were sat on a stony, muddy beach.

"Gods, you're cold," he said, and he lifted her to her feet. He realised, fleetingly, that they were now both covered in muddy water. "We'd better get you back up to the castle, or Hermione might hunt me down and crucify me."

She nodded, sleepily; warm sounded like an excellent idea.

"Wouldn't want that…" she mumbled.

Together they picked their way back up to the castle that had become their home.

0o0o0o0

Poppy Pomfrey walked slowly back to the Hospital Wing that evening. She'd noted Remus's absence at dinner and had decided that the two of them needed some time alone, to deal with the events of the previous few days.

She glanced up at the waning moon, sadly. Remus had always been such a kind and thoughtful man, so afraid of hurting anybody; she could only imagine what the attack on Amelia was doing to him.

She'd treated his scrapes and bruises that morning; he'd been courteous, as always, but also largely silent. He'd barely taken his eyes off Amelia, still and pale in the hospital bed. She shook her head and hoped vaguely that he had kept his – they were both very nice people and they were clearly in love.

As he'd sat and stared at her that morning, Remus had had the look of a man about to bolt.

As she entered the Hospital Wing and glanced up towards her patient, she caught her breath. Something was wrong.

With a flick of her wands she lit the lanterns: Amelia's bed was empty, her pillows scattered across the floor.

Wand up, Poppy whirled to the door, ready to give the alarm, but found that there was no need.

There, at the end of the corridor, were two bedraggled teachers. Remus was supporting a stumbling Amelia and they were laughing together, softly. Both were head-to-toe covered in mud.

Poppy allowed herself a moment to enjoy the sight before carefully arranging her features into a suitably matronly scowl.

"Mr Lupin!" she barked. Two pairs of eyes snapped up in surprise. "What do you think you have been doing to my patient?"

The healthy respect for Madame Pomfrey that had been established in his schooldays immediately reasserted itself; he straightened up at once and began to stutter, guiltily.

Amelia, who had caught Poppy's eye in the stunned silence that had followed her outburst, began to chuckle. She was almost certain that Poppy was about to tell him to tuck in his shirt.

"_Get in here this second!_"

Remus started forwards involuntarily, taking Amelia with him. Poppy, relishing this effect, looked the pair up and down with a severe expression.

"You're both filthy!" it was a little bit like being shouted at by a primary school teacher, Amelia realised. It was both funny and threatening at the same time. The older witch's voice changed a little, and she studied Amelia's expression (Remus's was still one of dutiful obedience) closely. "What _have_ you been doing?"

Amelia responded with a somewhat withering look.

"Amelia, come with me," Poppy commanded, business-like, and the two witches went towards Amelia's bed, leaving Remus stood sheepishly in the doorway, self-consciously picking bits of pondweed out of his hair. He felt rather as though he'd just travelled in time and was fifteen again, having escorted James and Sirius to the Hospital Wing after a spectacular and memorable failed prank involving the Giant Squid.

Poppy cleaned Amelia up with a flick of her wand and went about removing her bloodstained bandages.

"Mr Lupin, would you fetch a Warming Potion from the cabinet please?" she asked absently. "No, wait." Remus froze, mid-stride. "We can't have you dripping all over the place," she said disapprovingly. Without turning around, the older witch flicked her wand at him.

Finding himself clean and dry he crossed to Amelia's bedside and handed her the Warming Potion.

She smiled up at him as the magic did its work and the colour returned to her cheeks. Its welcome thawing effect had the unfortunate consequence of returning the feeling to her shoulder and she grimaced, looking down at it.

The wounds were deep. Four long claw-marks had torn into the flesh of her shoulder. Amelia now saw how lucky she had been: if she hadn't turned towards Hermione's scream the werewolf would have ripped her throat out.

Remus too was looking at the wounds.

That last modicum of rational self-disgust looked up from its tea-break and folded up its newspaper.

The very moment before he turned away, Amelia caught his hand and refused to let go.

"Amelia –" he began.

"Don't," she said. "You're not going anywhere, it wasn't your fault."

"She's right you know," Poppy interjected, smearing some healing ointment across her patient's skin. The skin tightened under the cream, knitting the wounds together: they'd be nothing but scars soon. "I know you, Remus," the older witch said, gently. "Always so quick to take the blame. But it wasn't your fault, and it wasn't the wolf's fault either. It's in his nature."

"But –"

"But nothing." She looked up at him, wiping her hands on her apron. "How much of it do you remember?"

"Only fragments, really…" he said, slowly.

"Well I suppose that's a mercy at least." She looked hard at both of them. "Miss Granger stayed with you, Amelia, when Mr Potter ran after Black – yes, I do believe their version of events," she continued, waving their interruptions away. "Those children were not Confunded. When the Dementors came, you ran back up to where she and Amelia were," she nodded at Remus. "Hermione was afraid the werewolf had 'come back for seconds,' as it were, but he – you – lay down by the two of them and whined. She said that you kept trying to get Amelia to wake up… You only left them when Severus fell out of the Mobilicorpus charm."

(The puzzle of this revelation left little room for Amelia to consider the hilarity of Severus's comedic awakening, but you, dear reader, may take a moment to picture him waking, confused, before falling flat on his face, flailing wildly. Enjoy!)

Poppy surveyed them for a moment before making up her mind.

"I don't usually do this," she said, "but would you mind staying to keep an eye on Amelia, Remus? I have a meeting with Minerva."

Remus nodded numbly and sat down beside Amelia's bed – she still hadn't let go of his hand.

She watched him carefully as Poppy slipped out of the Hospital Wing.

"Remus?"

"I…"

She waited, not really knowing whether he'd stay or make a run for it; she knew that this time she wouldn't be able to follow him. He met her eyes.

"I've never heard of a werewolf behaving like that towards a human."

He glanced at her shoulder in a troubled fashion… an appalling thought had begun to filter into his mind. Amelia took in his expression.

"I won't turn," she said. "I asked Poppy – seeing as I wasn't bitten. She smiled wryly, "it's just a scratch."

Remus looked greatly relieved.

"My… the wolf's… behaviour doesn't make sense though… if that's the case." He looked like he was trying to solve a particularly tricky crossword puzzle: he was frowning slightly and his eyes flicked from side to side as if he were looking at various explanations in his mind's eye. It was intensely adorable.

"Unless…" a change spread across his features; he looked at Amelia in wonder. "Unless… the wolf recognised you… which it wouldn't do… unless he'd chosen you – as his mate."

Amelia stared back at him in astonishment.

"Is that even possible?"

"It's been known to happen… but there needs to be an exceptionally strong connection between the two parties – it tends not to happen unless both people are werewolves, though it's not unknown."

"Exceptionally strong…"

"Yes," he said slowly.

"But when I first went towards you – him, you – he – attacked me…"

"It's possible that it happened too fast for him to notice, if the bloodlust took over too quickly… or the fact that you howled after I – we – hurt you."

"I howled?"

"In pain… but it was still a howl… I remember that bit quite clearly. Werewolves respond to that sort of noise… it's a call… a means of tracking friends – or family."

"Oh," Amelia said. She didn't really know what to say to him… at least this sort of meant that he wouldn't run away any time soon. Even if he did, the wolfish part of him might come back of its own accord – she wouldn't have anything to fear from him anymore. She squeezed his hand.

"Are you alright? With all this I mean… wolves tend to mate for life…" he said, suddenly nervous. _What if she doesn't want this… doesn't want me?_

"I know… it's a bit big to fit in my head all at once… but what does fit makes me quite happy," she said, smiling at him.

Nerves changed quickly into surprise and swiftly into stunned happiness.

"Erm, so you… we… erm…"

Amelia grinned at him. He cleared his throat.

"So… after the end of term… are you staying here?"

"Not for long," she said, and found that she would be sad to leave even for the summer months, "I have to go see Bea, and there's the summer harvest to bring in, and I may end up on a local dig, I usually do."

Remus's face fell.

"Oh… I'd hoped…"

"What?"

"I'd hoped we'd be together," he mumbled.

"… I'd sort of assumed that you'd come with me – I mean, i-if you want to." It was Amelia's turn to feel nervous.

"I – I wouldn't want to impose –"

"You wouldn't be," she assured him quickly. "Bea will love you… and Hermione's going to be away at the Burrow for a while – Ron said something about the Quidditch World Cup –"

It took a while for Remus to find his voice again.

"I – that would be wonderful, Amelia, really. Are you sure?"

Amelia gave him a Look, and he grinned. It looked like it would be an interesting summer.

0o0o0o0

Unnoticed, Hermione smiled to herself. She too had been puzzling over the werewolf's odd behaviour – the way he'd nuzzled at Amelia's palm or neck, trying to wake her, whining plaintively at Hermione when he'd had no success. After the initial fear had worn off it had become quite amusing. He'd put himself between them and the Dementors whenever it had looked like they might come nearer.

A quick trip to the library had confirmed Hermione's suspicion that Remus might be a more permanent part of Amelia's life than he might have thought.

She slipped out of the Hospital Wing under the cover of the Invisibility Cloak; she'd borrowed it from Harry to visit her cousin, but she could see that Amelia was well tended. So preoccupied was she in smirking at her cousin's good fortune that she collided with Severus on the main staircase.

Hit by an invisible something, the Potions Master drew his wand.

"Show yourself!"

Hermione let out her breath in a rush; sitting up, she pulled off the cloak, looking ashamed.

Severus lowered his wand and he assessed her speculatively, sprawled on the steps below him.

"You do realise that students who walk the halls at night get into trouble," he snarled, and Hermione, assuming that he was still smarting from the night before, began to stutter an explanation.*

He rolled his eyes at her and offered her his hand.

"I expect you were checking on your cousin," he said.

Dumbfounded, she took his hand and righted herself, tucking the Invisibility Cloak into her pocket as she did so.

"And is she alright?" he asked, clearly amused at her astonishment.

Hermione nodded.

"Remus was with her."

Severus smiled, _so he's forgiven us… and himself. That's a start, _she thought. Or more likely, Amelia had beaten some sense into him.

"Good," he looked at the student in front of him; she was watching him with a curious expression.

"At the risk of losing my awe-inspiring reputation," he began, "I shall escort you back to your Common Room. Can't have you running into any other teachers."

Surprised, Hermione followed him up the staircase.

"I was wondering if I could speak with you, Mr Potter and Mr Weasley tomorrow," he said, not unkindly. Hermione was aware that this was not a request. "Shall we say two o'clock tomorrow, in my office?"

He left her at the portrait-hole, staring after him.

"Well, that was weird," she said to herself, stepping through.

0o0o0o0

*I would like to make it perfectly clear at this juncture that I did not realise how dirty this section sounded when I wrote it. Go on, read it again from 'Hit by an invisible something' to the asterisk. Try reading it in the dirtiest voice you can.

That's what an entire living room full of archaeologists (and one computer geek) are currently doing… (Although Helen just started singing about 'meat chops', I fear she may be somewhat distracted).

An amalgamation of the conversation would go as follows:

"It gets normal here, I swear," says I, trying hard not to laugh. " '…Hermione, assuming that he was still smarting from the night before...' Oh."

"Oh, honey, that's just not right!" shouted Jamie, listening from the kitchen.

Rowena, looking up from her crochet, glanced at me in amusement. "Oh my," she said.

Niall, who had spent the previous few minutes sniggering into his coffee, put on his best Snape voice:

"I am Snape, the date-rape Maaaster!"

Snorting, Helen chipped in with, "Oh professor, I just fell down the steps and I have no knickers on under my robes!" in a high-pitched voice.

"Enter at will," sniggered Niall.

"Poor Will," says I, trying to get back to my story.

…

I am aware that my characters (and probably my readers) are torn between crying, laughing and retching… (and two of them are desperately trying to hex my friends…)

See, this is why Amelia can never keep a straight face… there's just something about working in trenches and mud that puts your head straight in the gutter.


	23. Epilogue

It was with some trepidation that Hermione, Ron and Harry entered the Potion Master's office the following day. Snape was sat behind his desk, looking, if possible, eviller than usual. Coolly, he indicated that they be seated, giving Hermione the barest of smiles when Ron and Harry looked at one another, confused.

"We are awaiting the arrival of a few of my colleagues," Snape began, shortly. "I understand that I have the three of you to thank for my head wound," he said, in a menacing voice. Hermione tried very, very hard not to meet her Professor's eye.

Harry and Ron, for once, appeared to have lost the ability to speak.

"Well? What do you have to say for yourselves?" he glared at the three of them in turn. Hermione appeared to be shaking with silent mirth – the game appeared to be up. _However…_

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione's eyes shot up; the girl managed to appear mildly terrified, only the occasional uncontrolled movement betrayed her. _Merlin_, he thought, _by the time she's Amelia's age the two of them will be perfectly capable of terrorising a small country_.

"Sir?" she managed.

"You knowingly attacked a teacher, what have you got to say for yourself?"

Very carefully, Hermione began, "Well, you had gone a bit mad, sir."

In the seats next to her, the boys' eyes widened in astonishment and both tried to look at her through the corners of their eyes. Severus smirked slightly, then remembered that he should be being 'the-bat-of-the-dungeons' as Pomona had recently re-christened him.

"I had gone a bit mad," he repeated, coldly. "I hardly think that you ought to be the judge of that, Miss Granger, given the company in which I had found you."

Hermione had gone very pink; Harry made a move, probably to say something in defence of the two men who had once again managed to cause a considerable amount of chaos not two evenings previously, but he was stunned into silence by what happened next.

Both Hermione and Severus had, at that moment, the misfortune to meet one another's gaze and they promptly erupted into gales of helpless laughter.

Harry and Ron, who were clearly of the opinion that they were hallucinating, stared open-mouthed between their best friend, who had sunk deeper into her chair and was crying with laughter, and their Potions Master, who was clutching his stomach with mirth.

_Maybe that bump on the head was worse than we thought_, Ron mused, _but why is Hermione joining in?_

Severus and Hermione were beginning to calm down when Harry decided that the order of the universe needed to be re-established.

"Erm… Hermione?" he tried, quietly.

"Ha ha –I'm s-sorry Harry, Ron – it was just too f-f-funny!" she attempted to catch her breath before addressing Severus, who was once again wearing his customary frown. "I knew that was a wind up," she said, shaking her head at him.

Severus's calm exterior fractured for a split second, and the boys saw that he too was still trying not to laugh. _It is possible that if this continues much longer Weasley's jaw may actually detach,_ he thought.

Thankfully though, there was a knock at the door.

"Come," Severus called, in a commanding tone.

Amelia, Remus and Minerva filed in. Amelia took one look at Harry and Ron's gaping faces and smacked Hermione lightly on the arm. Glaring at Severus, she said "You two. I don't know."

Feeling that they were on sturdier ground if three other teachers were present, Ron began, "Erm… Professor Snape? Are you feeling alright?"

"Never better, Mr Weasley, thank-you."

"If we could get on please, Severus," Minerva sighed, settling on a chair beside Remus, who was smiling very slightly.

Severus nodded, courteously.

"Professor Snape has called us all here to discuss Black's escape," Minerva began. "Perhaps you had better begin, Severus."

"I have heard the version of events that the three of you described," Snape said coldly, "a description that I admit I was loathe to believe until I spoke with Miss Brown, here. Do any of you know what a Reader is?"

Hermione, for once, stayed silent. _Could this mean…?_

Ron glanced at Hermione, then at Amelia.

"I've heard – I mean, Mum told me once – that a Reader was someone who can read minds…"

"Correct, Mr Weasley," Minerva said approvingly. "But it's not just minds, readers often see the truth more easily than others, and they learn exceptionally quickly."

Harry was frowning to himself.

"What does this have to do with Sirius's – I mean – Black's escape?"

"We're getting there, Potter," said Severus, coolly. "The Minister was reluctant to believe your stories, believing – as I did – that you had been Confunded… unfortunately he was similarly reluctant to accept Lupin's word, given his condition."

Harry glared at Snape, but Remus was nodding sadly and motioned him to continue. Out of the corner of his eye, Ron saw Amelia take his hand in hers.

"Miss Brown was assumed to have been similarly Confunded, given Black's skill and the short length of time she has spent in our world…"

He looked at Amelia then, uncertain.

"Clearly, I wasn't," she said. Turning to Minerva, she continued, "When Black told his story, I asked if I could Read him… I showed Severus yesterday."

Minerva had gone quite pale.

"And?" she said, in an odd sort of voice.

"And everything he told them was true. Peter betrayed the Potters, not Sirius," she paused and glanced at the three children. "I think Severus has asked us all here to put together a case for a pardon."

All three of them gaped back at her.

"Since he was never technically convicted, the legal part shouldn't be too difficult," said Remus, matter-of-factly, "it'll be convincing the Minister, the Aurors and the Wizengamot – oh, and the general public of course."

"I think, with the testimony of the three of you, and Amelia's material record – sorry Amelia – we'll be on good ground for an appeal," said Severus.

"What am I, exhibit B?" Amelia asked, amused.

"Are you serious?" asked Harry, astonished.

"Absolutely, Mr Potter. I would not have brought you here otherwise."

Harry opened and closed his mouth soundlessly for a few moments. Minerva, however, appeared to have recovered her voice.

"Well. We have a lot to get through. Perhaps I could see that 'record,' Amelia? Severus, would you floo the headmaster please, I think he ought to hear this…"

0o0o0o0

It had been nearly a week since Sirius's escape from the castle, and a week since the three of them had had their bewildered meeting with Severus, and things were beginning to return to normal. The majority of students were enjoying the freedom from both the exams and their lectures, were spending time in the grounds, lazing about in the sunshine.

Harry was spending time with Hagrid, who had been delighted to discover that Buckbeak was ok, and was subsequently baking rock hard cakes like there was no tomorrow.

Hermione and Ron had settled under their beech tree on the shore of the Lake. Around them their classmates were playing games of exploding snap and gobstones.

Hermione was idly flicking through one of Amelia's old books while Ron watched his brothers teasing the Giant Squid in the distance. He had been unusually quiet, Hermione noted, since Harry had left them around half an hour before.

She reached the end of the book. Amelia had apparently taped a photo in the back page. It had been taken the previous summer on the gates of Aunty Bea's farm. Amelia and Hermione were perched on the gates, along with a few of Amelia's old Uni' friends. She ran her thumb along the edge of the picture; the next time she saw the 'ladies' she wouldn't be far off coming of age – in their eyes at least.

Fourteen. It had been at fourteen that Amelia's… quirks… had come to the fore. She had said it was like being far too young and far too old all at the same time.

Fourteen… she'd have to make some tough decisions in the next few months. She knew that Aunty Bea and Amelia would begin to treat her as an adult… and certain things would be expected of her.

She became aware that Ron was looking at her, an odd expression on his face.

"Sorry," she said. "I was miles away, did you say something?"

"I wanted to ask you something."

"Go on then," she said, laying the book aside.

"I heard you and Prof – Amelia – talking in the tunnel… what did she mean, 'like before'?"

_Shit._

It seemed, for a moment, as if her heart had stopped. Her face must have registered some of the shock she was feeling, as Ron quickly continued.

"I mean, you don't have to say, it's just… I know she lost her Mum, and you used to talk about your Mum and Dad all the time in first year, but this last couple of years…"

Hermione was still staring at him, horrified. Had she been _that_ obvious?

Ron bit his lip. He really hadn't wanted to upset her.

"I just – you know me and Harry are always around if you need us…"

"I – they – I…."

He scooted closer to her and put his arm around her now-shaking shoulders, albeit a little awkwardly.

"I was staying with Mel," she said, thickly. "Having a girly weekend… we'd gone out for chips and we were walking back to her flat. She just stopped dead in the middle of the street – I've never seen her look that scared – she went all pale and dropped her chips and ran off down the street, faster than I knew she could move. Of course, I followed her… it was weird… like I already knew where we were going…" She gave a small sob. "By the time I got to our street, Amelia was already there… she'd been digging through the rubble and she'd found – she found my – my Dad… she held his hand until he – he –"

She broke off and sobbed into his shirt; very embarrassed, but worried for her, he held her tighter. Around them, the joys of summer continued loudly; Lee Jordan had fallen into the Great Lake and the twins were rolling around on the grass, laughing until they cried.

"She saw me stood there behind her and she held onto me until the authorities came and sorted everything out. Aunty Sal – Mel's Mum – had been round at mine too… we're all we have left."

"No you're not," said Ron, with feeling. "Amelia's got Remus… and for some reason, Snape… and you've got Harry and me – you'll always have us. You could have told us."

"I know… but I thought if I didn't say it out loud, maybe it wouldn't be as real…"

Ron couldn't think of a single thing to say to that, so he stayed quiet and held her until she stopped crying.

"Sorry," she said, in a small voice. Ron gave her shoulders a squeeze.

"It's ok, 'Mione."

She gave him a small smile as she wiped her eyes.

"…Am I interrupting anything?" asked Harry, an amused expression on his face. Upon seeing Hermione's face this soon cascaded to concern.

"What's wrong?"

"Well…"

0o0o0o0

It was a hot summers' day when Sirius Black Apparated beside the ruins of a small cottage. Looking around to check he'd been unobserved he set off around the edge of a field of corn that surrounded the house. The sun was hot on his handsome face and the sweet smells of summer surrounded him.

It had been a month since Dumbledore had asked to meet him and Remus in an obscure pub on Dartmoor and handed him his full pardon. To say that he'd been surprised would be an understatement; when he found out that Severus Snape had largely been behind the appeal he was certain that he had somehow switched realities with some other, Slytherin controlled Sirius Black.

Needless to say, he and Remus had proceeded to get royally plastered and had pitched up at Amelia's flat, rat arsed and delighted at about four in the morning. Amelia had made them share the sofa.

She'd also made them breakfast.

Sirius still couldn't get over how lucky Remus was, and told him so, repeatedly, as Amelia made up the guest bedroom for him and forced him into the bathroom.

He'd spent the following month organising the purchase of a cottage in the depths of the country for he and Harry to share, hacking his hair back into sleek submission and reclaiming various belongings from old friends. Hagrid had been sorry to let the bike go, he knew, but not sorry to see him free.

Free.

It was a good feeling.

So here he was, dressed to the nines, wandering down a country lane surrounded by apple trees, the sounds of a party in the distance. This, he suspected, indicated that he was nearing his destination.

A set of gates swung into view as he rounded a corner. There were balloons tied to them.

Around the gates a small gaggle of teenagers were laughing and joking together; one of them detached herself from the group and walked towards him, grinning.

Hermione was wearing what could only be described as an unlikely set of clothes; she'd apparently opted for tiny denim jeans, what Sirius could only hope was a cropped t-shirt and a suspiciously pink checked shirt. If he didn't know that the boys would be joining them later on – and that Hermione was related to Amelia – he would worry about the girl. Ron wasn't going to know what had hit him.

"Hello Hermione," he said, returning her grin.

"Sirius," she nodded, graciously. "Glad you could make it – the party's in the meadow, though if you want to try your hand at apple picking with the rest of us, you want the orchard. Although," she gave him an appraising look, "you're not really dressed for climbing trees."

"You are, I suppose?" he quipped. Hermione stuck out her tongue in a rather un-Hermione like way. "Remus here yet?"

"Nope, that's why I'm waiting here."

"Are you meeting everyone?"

"No – I want to see his expression when Aunty Bea meets him," she cracked a wicked grin. "Nasty right hook, has Bea."

Sirius, unable to decide whether or not she was kidding, smiled a little bemusedly and made his way past the group of teenagers into the farmyard. The girls giggled at him as he passed.

The party was indeed in full swing in the meadow, but he paused by the orchard gate anyway. _Not dressed for climbing trees, honestly_, he thought.

"Black," said a clipped voice behind him.

Out of habit, Sirius's hand flew to his wand, but he turned without drawing it.

"Snape."

They regarded one another with animosity – and not a little curiosity – for a few moments, before Severus handed him one of the two bottles of cider in his hands. Astonished, Sirius took it.

"I have been informed by our illustrious host that this is last year's stock and we must 'finish it off' before they lay down the new stuff."

Reluctantly, and without taking his eyes off the other man's face he took a sip; the cider was cool and warming at the same time. Sirius frowned.

"Odd aftertaste," he said, uncertainly.

"Amelia said some of them were laced with ginger… apparently 'downing them until your eyes water' is a fabulous hobby," said Severus, with obvious disdain.

There was a shout from nearby, both men turned to see one of the apple pickers who'd spent too much time at the cider table fall out of a nearby tree, cursing.

Several apple pickers descended their ladders to check on him.

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"I… Thank you, Severus. Remus tells me the pardon was largely due to you."

The other man made a noncommittal sound.

"I'd say it was a team effort," he turned to Sirius. "This in no way means I like you, you understand, but Amelia and Beatrice were quite adamant that we were to remain cordial 'on their turf,' as they put it."

"I've been hearing a lot about this Beatrice," said Sirius, darkly.

"A formidable woman, certainly," said Severus, raising an eyebrow.

"Still, thank you."

"You're welcome," said Severus, a little awkwardly.

"You two boys getting on?" Amelia had apparently dealt swiftly with the fallen apple-picker, who was none the worse for wear, save a few bruises. "Ooh, you got a gingery one – is it good?"

Sirius took another involuntary sip.

"Smooth," he said, his eyes watering.

Amelia cracked a grin.

"My own recipe, you know."

"Indeed?" Sirius caught sight of a mass of red-heads in the distance. "Harry's here," he said.

The three of them turned to look as Hermione met them at the gate; Fred and George slapped her on the back in an approving manner. Ron and Harry didn't make it past the gate.

Sirius and Amelia grinned; Severus chuckled into his cider.

"Hello Amelia, dear!"

"Molly! How are you?" Amelia allowed herself to be enveloped into a hug as Molly Weasley descended upon them.

"Arthur," nodded Severus, curtly.

"Severus," replied Arthur. "Er- you must be Sirius," he said, extending a hand, "Harry's told us all about you."

Sirius took his hand and shook it warmly.

"He's mentioned you too – thank you for being so kind to him."

"Not at all, he's – oh," said Arthur, his eyes travelling back to the trio at the gate. Ron had gone very red in the face; Harry appeared to be in shock. Hermione stalked off to join Ginny with her brothers in the yard.

Behind him, Amelia sniggered.

"We take a bit of getting used to, when we're on our own ground," she said, nodding happily at Hermione.

"That you do."

"Remus!" Amelia kissed him on the cheek before being enveloped into yet another hug.

Harry and Ron wandered over to Sirius; they appeared to be arguing about Hermione.

"But did you see what she was _wearing_?" Ron was asking in an exasperated fashion. "Anyone might see her and think, well…" he trailed off.

A stunning, curly haired woman was approaching the little group in a determined manner; the flowery dress she was wearing did nothing to diminish the air of menace she was projecting.

"Kindly unhand my niece young man!" she snapped.

Amelia rolled her eyes; most of the men present looked terrified. Remus struggled to resist the urge to run back across the farmyard and vault the fence.

The formidable Aunty Beatrice looked Remus up and down with an expression of extreme distaste.

"What do you think you were doing? Hmm?"

Faces were beginning to emerge behind the bushes and trees that lined the meadow. If the current line-up was anything to go by, the local village had turned out and been joined by the majority of the staff of Hogwarts. Hagrid could just be seen, towering above the rest and trying not to laugh; beneath the hedge line, Poppy kicked him in the shin – a considerable feat given their difference in stature.

"I – er – I," stammered Remus.

"Bea…"

"You be quiet young lady," Bea snapped at Amelia.

"I'm not twelve."

"_I said, be quiet!_"

Sirius gulped and took an involuntary step back, as did Severus. Amongst the gawping Weasleys, Hermione sniggered; Amelia glared at her.

"Well?"

Remus looked as if his capacity to speak had been ripped up and stamped upon.

"That's what I thought," snapped Bea, then a sly smile spread across her features. "But you didn't run, so that's a start." She gave him another appraising look and grinned. "You'll do," she said, warmly, and to almost everyone's astonishment she smacked him across his back and laughed. "Well, what are you all stood gawping at? This is a harvest party, isn't it? None of you are up a ladder, and none of you appear to be revelling, so let's get to it!"

And with that, she marched back across the yard and into the meadow.

Remus gave Amelia a wide eyed look, and she shrugged, apologetically.

Sirius clapped him on the back and expressed his feelings exactly.

"You're doomed, mate."

0o0o0o0

The party showed no signs of slowing down as the ladders were packed away and the stars came out. Amelia's university friends had put on some loud rock music and were happily jumping around the field, dragging Hermione and Ginny with them; upon enquiring, he had discovered that the strange whirling dance that the one with the blue hair was doing was called 'windmilling'. Severus was avoiding them, partly because he wasn't fond of dancing, and partly because anyone near the windmilling was in danger of losing an eye. Amelia had been dancing with them, but Severus realised that he hadn't seen her around for a while. He looked around… there hadn't been much sign of Remus for a while either.

The revellers had descended into a variety of 'camps' around the meadow: the wizarding adults had more or less divided themselves into male and female groups. Arthur Weasley was talking animatedly with Filius and Hagrid, while Molly, Bea and Pomona were producing ever-more raucous laughter as the cider stores dwindled. Sirius had wandered off with one of Amelia's friends to look at her motorbike.

He watched as the Weasley twins dragged a very reluctant Harry and Ron onto the 'dancefloor' and Percy, his glasses somewhat askew, followed them drunkenly.

Severus laughed to himself. He'd never thought he'd enjoy a party this much. A snort of laughter from beside him pulled him from his thoughts.

Turning, he found himself stood beside another of Amelia's friends, a redheaded archaeologist he'd been briefly introduced to earlier in the evening. He couldn't for the life of him remember her name.

"Sorry," she said, with a grin. "I love people watching."

In the back of his mind, Severus registered that his new acquaintance looked stunning. He ignored it.

"As do I…" he said. "Forgive me, I appear to have forgotten your name."

"That's quite alright, I can't remember yours, either," she smiled, and held out her hand. "Hazel Wells… but most people call me Bones."

"Severus Snape," he responded, shaking her hand; it was soft, he noticed, and pleasant to the touch. "But most people call me 'bat-of-the-dungeons'."

To his delight, Bones laughed. Why was he _blushing_?

"Interesting nickname," she said.

"I'm – my office is in the dungeons… at the school."

"You teach with Amelia?"

"Yes."

"This Remus fellow, I suppose he's a good sort?"

Severus paused, about to return to his usual pastime of ridiculing any Marauder he could bring to mind, but thought of Amelia, looking so happy dragging Remus about the 'dance floor' to some obscure Muggle song.

"Yes, he's alright, I suppose," on Bones's sceptical look he added. "We haven't always got on, but he treats Amelia well." This seemed to satisfy his new friend, so he decided that it would be politic to change the subject. "How did you get your nickname, might I enquire?"

"I'm an osteologist," she smiled. "I work with dead people – they don't talk back."

"Sounds like my kind of job," said Severus, smiling back, despite himself.

"And you, a teacher," said Bones, very much amused.

Severus was saved from further small talk by Amelia, who was banging on the cider table with a tankard to get everyone's attention.

"Hi everyone," she said brightly; Severus could see Remus stood a little way behind her, grinning like a madman. "On behalf of Aunty Bea, Hermione and myself, I'd just like to thank everyone who helped get in so many apples today – I hope you've enjoyed the produce from last year's harvest. The assorted Bradford grad's would like to make it known that the karaoke will be beginning soon, and that they are severely disappointed in the lack of enthusiasm so far shown for dancing around like loonies – I believe that this is something of a challenge levelled at 'team Hogwarts'. I'd also like to announce that the annual cider boat race is about to begin at the far end of the meadow – anyone under the age of fourteen and the faint of heart need not apply." There were several hearty cheers from the Weasley twins, who appeared to be setting up a Weasley boat race team; Harry and Ginny both looked quite relieved to be excluded, though Hermione was enthusiastically explaining the rules to Percy, who looked like he'd currently agree to anything.

Sirius and his new friend sidled back into the circle, clothing a little rumpled. Severus rolled his eyes.

"Those of you who wish to escape my wrath should note that anyone being sick inside the farmhouse should clean it up or run for their lives," interjected Beatrice, cheerfully. Several of the villagers laughed.

"And finally," said Amelia, reaching out a hand to Remus, "Remus would like to make an announcement of his own."

Remus blushed, but pulled Amelia to him.

"Some of you will know that Amelia and I have been seeing one another for a while now…"

There were a few murmurs among the crowd; Sirius looked over at Severus, eyebrow raised. From somewhere beside Hagrid, Filius piped up, "Only after a considerable amount of encouragement!"

A lot of the assembled wizards laughed; Amelia and Remus both went pink.

"… er yes. Well, tonight I asked Amelia if she would do me the honour of taking my hand in marriage."

The meadow fell silent, possibly in shock.

"And, er, she said yes."

It was as if the field had exploded with sound. Amelia and Remus found themselves being variously clapped on the back, shaken hands with and hugged. Somehow Filius managed to get through the crowd to squeakily wish them all the best before they were swamped by enthusiastic archaeologists.

Once the initial excitement wore off, someone turned the music back on and the Hogwarts professors, riled, perhaps, by the assertion that they couldn't hack it on the dance floor, joined in with gusto. Filius even sang a duet with a rather tipsy Minerva when the dreaded karaoke began.

Severus swiftly fled the group of chattering well-wishers and claimed another cider. Reflecting on how happy his new family was, he gazed around contentedly. _Who'd have thought? I'm practically a Marauder now_.

As his eyes travelled across the gate to the meadow, he gave a start. Perched upon the wooden frame were two figures, pale and indistinct in the gathering darkness. He looked around, hurriedly; no one else seemed to have noticed them, but there they were, ciders in hand, smiling warmly around at all the revelry. Lily caught sight of him and nudged her insufferable husband in the ribs. She grinned at Severus, and he felt his heart leap; Potter raised his tankard to him, in thanks, Severus realised. Silently, and not believing it for a second, he raised his in return.

His line of sight was broken, just for a second, by Percy Weasley, looking for somewhere quiet to be violently sick, and when he looked back the two of them had gone.

_Gone, perhaps, but not forgotten_, he thought. With some amusement he wondered just how much time they spent spying on their old friends and enemies.

As he watched Sirius warmly congratulate his old friend and Hermione finally drag Harry and Ron into the dancing, Dumbledore tapped Severus on the shoulder.

"You're next you know, old chap," he said, eyes twinkling.

"What on earth can you mean, Headmaster?" asked Severus, as drily as he could manage.

Dumbledore merely shrugged and nodded towards Bones, who was laughing at something Sirius had just said to Remus. Eyes twinkling, he left Severus to splutter incoherently in the darkness at the edge of the meadow.

0o0o0o0

I would like to take this opportunity to thank my small army of proof readers – Bones Burton, Devil Burns, Miss Jamie and Miss Rowena – for keeping me giggling and for encouragement (i.e. pestering me until the next chapter was written and bullying me into writing a sequel). Also all the people who've favourited or added me to author watch – and of course the kind reviewers – as this is my first 'proper' piece of writing, your encouragement and kind words mean a lot. You know who you are!

And lastly, thanks for reading!

Thanks, guys!


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